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A  DRAWING   FROM   LIFE 
BY   JOHN    CECIL  CLAY 


TAP  HERRON 

A  NOVEL  WRITTEN  FROM 
THE  OUIJA  BOARD 


WITH  AN  INTRODUCTION 

THE  COMING  OF  JAP  HERRON 


NEW  YORK 

MITCHELL  KENNERLEY 
MCMXVII 


COPYRIGHT    1917    BY 
MITCHELL  KENNERLEY 


PRINTED  IN  AMERICA 


THE  COMING  OF 
"JAP  HERRON" 

ON  the  afternoon  of  the  second  Thursday  in  March, 
1915,  I  responded  to  an  invitation  to  the  regular  meet 
ing  of  a  small  psychical  research  society.  There  was 
to  be  a  lecture  on  cosmic  relations,  and  the  hostess 
for  the  afternoon,  whom  I  had  met  twice  socially, 
thought  I  might  be  interested,  my  name  having  ap 
peared  in  connection  with  a  recently  detailed  series  of 
psychic  experiments.  To  all  those  present,  with  the 
exception  of  the  hostess,  I  was  a  total  stranger.  I 
learned,  with  some  surprise,  that  these  men  and  women 
had  been  meeting,  with  an  occasional  break  of  a  few 
months,  for  more  than  five  years.  The  record  of  these 
meetings  filled  several  type-written  volumes. 

When  word  came  that  the  lecturer  was  unavoidably 
detained,  the  hostess  requested  Mrs.  Lola  V.  Hays  to 
entertain  the  members  and  guests  by  a  demonstration 
of  her  ability  to  transmit  spirit  messages  by  means  of 
a  planchette  and  a  lettered  board.  The  apparatus  was 
familiar  to  me ;  but  the  outcome  of  that  afternoon's 
experience  revealed  a  new  use  for  the  transmission 

1 


2          THE  COMING  OF  "JAP  HERRON" 

board.  After  several  messages,  more  or  less  personal, 
had  been  spelled  out,  the  pointer  of  the  planchette 
traced  the  words: 

"Samuel  L.  Clemens,  lazy  Sam."  There  was  a  long 
pause,  and  then:  "Well,  why  don't  some  of  you  say 
something?" 

I  was  born  in  Hannibal,  and  my  pulses  quickened. 
I  wanted  to  put  a  host  of  questions  to  the  greatest 
humorist  and  the  greatest  philosopher  of  modern  times ; 
but  I  was  an  outsider,  unacquainted  with  the  usages 
of  the  club,  and  I  remained  silent  while  the  planchette 
continued : 

"Say,  folks,  don't  knock  my  memoirs  too  hard.  They 
were  written  when  Mark  Twain  was  dead  to  all  sense 
of  decency.  When  brains  are  soft,  the  method  should 
be  anaesthesia." 

Not  one  of  those  present  had  read  Mark  Twain's 
memoirs,  and  the  plaint  fell  upon  barren  soil.  The 
arrival  of  the  lecturer  prevented  further  confession 
from  the  unseen  communicant;  but  I  was  so  deeply 
impressed  that  I  begged  my  hostess  to  permit  me  to 
come  again.  For  my  benefit  a  meeting  was  arranged  at 
which  there  was  no  lecturer,  and  I  was  asked  to  sit  for 
the  first  time  with  Mrs.  Hays. 

In  my  former  psychic  investigation,  it  had  been  my 
habit  to  pronounce  the  letters  as  the  pointer  of  the 
planchette  indicated  them,  and  Mrs.  Hays  urged  me  to 
render  the  same  service  when  I  sat  with  her,  because 


THE  COMING  OF  "JAP  HERRON"          3 

she  never  permitted  herself  to  look  at  the  board,  fear 
ing  that  her  own  mind  would  interfere  with  the  trans 
mission.  Scarcely  had  our  finger-tips  touched  the 
planchette  when  it  darted  to  the  letters  which  spelled 
the  words : 

"I  tried  to  write  a  romance  once,  and  the  little  wife 
laughed  at  it.  I  still  think  it  is  good  stuff  and  I  want 
it  written.  The  plot  is  simple.  You'd  best  skeletonize 
the  plot.  Solly  Jenks,  Hiram  Wall — young  men. 
Time,  before  the  Civil  War." 

Then  the  outline  of  a  typical  Mark  Twain  story 
came  in  short,  explosive  sentences.  It  was  entitled, 
"Up  the  Furrow  to  Fortune."  A  brief  account  of  its 
coming  seems  vital  to  the  more  sustained  work  which 
was  destined  to  follow  it.  I  was  not  present  at  the  next 
regular  meeting  of  the  society;  but  at  its  close  I  was 
summoned  to  the  telephone  and  informed  that  Mark 
Twain  had  come  again  and  had  said  that  "the  Han 
nibal  girl"  was  the  one  for  whom  he  and  Mrs.  Hays 
had  been  waiting.  When  they  asked  him  what  he 
meant,  the  planchette  made  reply : 

"Consult  your  record  for  1911." 

One  of  the  early  volumes  of  the  society's  record  was 
brought  forth,  and  a  curious  fact  that  all  the  members 
of  the  society  had  forgotten  was  unearthed.  About  a 
year  after  his  passing  out,  Mr.  Clemens  had  told  Mrs. 
Hays  that  he  had  carried  with  him  much  valuable 
literary  material  which  he  yearned  to  send  back,  and 


4  THE  COMING  OF  "JAP  HERRON" 

that  he  would  transmit  stories  through  her,  if  she 
could  find  just  the  right  person  to  sit  with  her  at 
the  transmission  board.  Although  she  experimented 
with  each  member  of  the  club,  and  with  several  of  her 
friends  who  were  sympathetic  though  not  avowed  in 
vestigators,  he  was  not  satisfied  with  any  of  them. 
Then  she  gave  up  the  attempt  and  dismissed  it  from 
her  mind.  A  twenty-minute  test  with  me  seemed  to  con 
vince  him  that  in  me  he  had  found  the  negative  side  of 
the  mysterious  human  mechanism  for  which  he  had 
been  waiting. 

The  work  of  transmitting  that  first  story  was  at 
tended  with  the  greatest  difficulty.  No  less  than  three 
distinct  styles  of  diction,  accompanied  by  correspond 
ingly  distinct  motion  in  the  planchette  under  our  fin 
gers,  were  thrust  into  the  record.  At  first  we  were  at 
a  loss  to  understand  these  intrusions.  That  they  were 
intrusions  there  could  be  no  doubt.  In  each  case 
there  was  a  sharp  deviation  from  the  plot  of  the  story, 
as  it  had  been  given  to  us  in  the  synopsis.  After  one 
of  these  experiences,  which  resulted  in  the  introduction 
of  a  paragraph  that  was  rather  clever  but  not  at  all 
pertinent,  Mark  regained  control  with  the  impatiently 
traced  words: 

"Every  scribe  here  wants  a  pencil  on  earth." 
Not  until  the  middle  of  summer  did  we  achieve  that 
sureness  of  touch  which  now  enables  us  to  recognize, 
intuitively,    the    presence    of    the    one    scribe    whose 


THE  COMING  OF  "JAP  HERRON"  5 

thoughts  we  are  eager  to  transmit.  That  the  story 
of  Jap  Herron  and  the  two  short  stories  which  pre 
ceded  it  are  the  actual  post-mortem  work  of  Samuel 
L.  Clemens,  known  to  the  world  as  Mark  Twain,  we 
do  not  for  one  moment  doubt.  His  individuality  has 
been  revealed  to  us  in  ways  which  could  leave  no  ques 
tion  in  our  minds.  The  little,  intimate  touches  which 
reveal  personality  are  really  of  more  importance  than 
the  larger  and  more  conspicuous  fact  that  neither  Mrs. 
Hays  nor  I  could  have  written  the  fiction  that  has  come 
across  our  transmission  board.  Our  literary  output  is 
well  known,  and  not  even  the  severest  psychological 
skeptic  could  assert  that  it  bears  any  resemblance  to 
the  literary  style  of  "Jap  Herron." 

Mrs.  Hays  has  found  the  best  market  for  her  short 
stories  with  one  of  the  large  religious  publishing  houses, 
and  in  the  early  days  Mark  Twain  seemed  to  fear 
that  her  subconscious  mind  might  inadvertently  color 
or  distort  his  thought,  in  process  of  transmission.  We 
had  come  to  the  end  of  our  fourth  session  when  he 
added  this : 

"There  will  be  minor  errors  that  you  will  be  able  to 
take  care  of.  I  don't  object.  Only — don't  try  to  cor 
rect  my  grammar.  I  know  what  I  want  to  say.  And, 
dear  ladies,  when  I  say  d-a-m-n,  please  don't  write 
d-a-r-n.  Don't  try  to  smooth  it  out.  This  is  not  a 
smooth  story." 

That  Mark  should  fear  the  blue  pencil,  at  our  hands, 


6  THE  COMING  OF  "JAP  HERRON" 

amused  us  greatly.  The  story  bristles  with  profanity 
and  is  roughly  picturesque  in  its  diction.  It  deals  with 
a  section  of  the  Ozark  country  with  which  neither  of 
us  is  familiar,  and  in  the  speech  of  the  natives  there 
are  words  that  we  had  never  heard,  that  are  included 
in  no  dictionary  but  are,  it  transpires,  perfectly  fa 
miliar  to  the  primitive  people  in  the  southwestern  part 
of  the  state.  When  the  revision  of  the  story  was  al 
most  complete,  Mark  interrupted  the  dictation,  one 
afternoon,  to  remark: 

"You  are  too  tired.  Forces  must  be  strong  for  re 
sults.  Somebody  handed  you  a  lemon,  back  there.  Cut 
out  that  part  about  the  apple  at  fly  time.  I  am  not 
carping.  You  have  done  well.  The  interpretation  is 
excellent.  I  was  afraid  of  femininity.  Women  have 
their  ideas,  but  this  is  not  a  woman's  story.  Good- 
bye." 

There  was  another  meeting,  at  which  the  revision  of 
"Up  the  Furrow  to  Fortune"  was  completed,  and  then 
we  went  to  work  on  the  second  story,  "A  Daughter 
of  Mars."  As  in  the  case  of  the  first  one,  it  began  with 
a  partial  synopsis.  Vallon  Leithe,  an  enthusiastic 
aeronaut,  was  resting  after  a  long  flight,  when  a 
strange  air-craft  fell  out  of  the  sky,  lodging  in  the 
top  of  a  great  tree.  The  occupant  of  the  marvelously 
constructed  flying  machine  proved  to  be  a  girl  from  the 
planet  Mars.  Her  name  was  Ulethe,  and  she  had  many 


THE  COMING  OF  "JAP  HERRON"  7 

thrilling  adventures  on  our  earth.  The  synopsis  ended 
with  the  wholly  unexpected  words: 

"Now,  girls,  it  is  not  yet  clear  in  my  mind  whether 
we'd  better  send  Ulethe  back  to  Mars,  kill  her,  marry 
her  to  Leithe,  or  have  an  expedition  from  Mars  raise 
the  dickens.  But  we  will  let  it  develop  itself." 

The  board,  on  which  two  short  stories  and  a  novel 
have  already  been  transmitted,  is  one  of  the  ordinary 
varieties,  a  polished  surface  over  which  the  planchette 
glides  to  indicate  the  letters  of  the  alphabet  and  the 
figures  from  1  to  10.  In  the  main  our  dictation  came 
without  any  apparent  need  for  marks  of  punctuation. 
Occasionally  the  words  "quotation  marks,"  or  "Put 
that  in  quotes"  would  be  interjected.  Once  when  my 
intonation,  as  I  pronounced  the  words  for  the  amanuen 
sis  who  was  keeping  our  record,  seemed  to  indicate  a 
direct  statement,  the  planchette  whirled  under  our 
fingers  and  traced  the  crisp  statement,  "I  meant  that 
for  a  question." 

When  I  told  my  husband  of  these  grippingly  intimate 
evidences  of  an  unseen  personality,  it  occurred  to  him 
that  a  complete  set  of  punctuation  marks,  carefully 
applied  in  India  ink,  where  the  pointer  of  the  planchette 
could  pick  them  out  as  they  were  required,  would  facili 
tate  the  transmission  of  sustained  narrative.  To  him 
it  seemed  that  the  absence  of  these  marks  on  the  board 
must  be  maddening,  especially  to  Mark  Twain,  whose 
thought  could  be  hopelessly  distorted  by  the  omission 


8  THE  COMING  OF  "JAP  HERRON" 

of  so  trivial  a  thing  as  a  comma,  and  whose  subtle 
use  of  the  colon  was  known  to  all  the  clan  of  printers. 
Before  our  next  meeting  the  board  had  been  duly 
adorned  with  ten  of  the  most  important  marks,  includ 
ing  the  hyphen  and  the  M-dash.  The  comma  was  at 
the  head  of  the  right-hand  column  and  the  apostrophe 
at  the  bottom.  My  husband,  Mrs.  Hays  and  I  knew 
exactly  what  all  these  markings  meant,  yet  we  had  some 
confusion  because  Mark  insisted  on  using  the  comma 
when  he  wished  to  indicate  a  possessive  case.  The  sen 
tence  was  this,  as  I  understood  it : 

"I  was  not  wont  to  disobey  my  father,  scommand." 

Instantly  my  husband,  who  had  become  interested 
and  had  taken  the  place  of  our  first  amanuensis,  per 
ceived  that  I  had  made  a  mistake,  when  I  pronounced 
the  combination,  "f-a-t-h-e-r,  comma,  s-c-o-m-m-a-n-d." 

"But,"  I  defended  myself,  "the  pointer  went  to  the 
comma.  I  can  see  now  that  it  should  have  been  the 
apostrophe."  As  I  spoke  the  pointer  of  the  planchette 
traced  the  words  on  the  board: 

"Edwin  did  a  pretty  piece  of  work,  but  that  apos 
trophe  is  too  far  down.  I  am  in  danger  of  falling  off 
the  board  every  time  I  make  a  run  for  it." 

The  result  was  that  another  apostrophe  was  placed 
in  the  middle  of  the  board,  directly  under  the  letter  S. 
In  connection  with  the  M-dash  we  had  a  yet  more  start 
ling  evidence  of  an  outside  personality,  one  dependent 
on  us  for  his  means  of  communication,  but  wholly  in- 


THE  COMING  OF  "JAP  HERRON"  9 

dependent  of  our  thought  and  knowledge.  Mark  had 
dictated  the  synopsis  for  the  second  story  and  had  en 
larged  upon  the  first  situation.  Then,  as  has  since  be 
come  his  fixed  habit,  he  indicated  that  the  serious  work 
for  the  evening  was  ended,  and  returned  for  an  informal 
chat.  Mrs.  Hays  and  I  had  discussed  the  plot  at 
some  length,  and  after  my  husband  had  read  aloud 
the  second  evening's  dictation  we  commented  on  some 
of  the  obscure  points,  our  fingers  resting,  the  while, 
lightly  on  the  planchette.  Suddenly  it  became  agitated, 
assumed  a  vigorous  sweeping  motion  and  traced  very 
rapidly  these  words : 

"It  is  starting  good;  but  will  you  two  ladies  stop 
speculating?  I  am  going  to  take  care  of  this  story. 
Don't  try  to  dictate.  You  art  interrupting  the  thread 
of  the  story.  There  is  ample  time  for  smoothing  the 
rough  places.  I  am  not  caviling.  I  am  well  pleased." 
After  a  pause,  he  continued :  "There  is  the  same  class 
of  interruption — those  who  could  write  stories,  but  are 

not  to  write  my ;  At  this,  the  planchette  turned 

to  the  M-dash  and  slid  back  and  forth  under  it  several 
times.  It  then  spelled  the  word  "stories."  We  were 
utterly  at  a  loss,  until  he  explained:  "I  was  using 
that  black  line  for  an  underscore." 

Again  and  again  we  have  had  the  word  "good"  in  an 
adverbial  construction,  a  usage  that  is  not  common  to 
either  Mrs.  Hays  or  me ;  but  Mark  has  told  us  that  he 
liked  it,  in  familiar  conversation.  We  have  tried  to 


10         THE  COMING  OF  "JAP  HERRON" 

adhere  with  absolute  fidelity  to  even  the  seeming  errors 
which  came  over  the  board. 

The  second  installment  of  the  story  gave  all  of  us 
much  trouble.  Incidentally  it  served  to  develop  several 
bits  of  humorous  conversation.  When  it  was  finished, 
we  received  this  comment: 

"I  think  that  is  all  we  can  do  to-night.  I  intend  to 
enlarge  upon  this  chapter  before  going  further.  The 
forces  are  not  strong  enough  to-night.  We  will  re 
write  this  part  Monday  night." 

We  naturally  expected  a  rehandling  of  that  install 
ment,  which  for  convenience  he  had  designated  a  "chap 
ter."  To  our  surprise,  the  pointer  of  the  planchette 
gave  this : 

"I  have  changed  my  mind.  We  will  proceed  to  New 
York.  I  will  probably  want  to  handle  chapter  second 
in  a  different  way.  It  reads  like  a  printed  porous 
plaster ;  but  that  is  no  one's  fault.  Begin  !" 

The  dictation  went  smoothly,  and  there  were  no  in 
terruptions  from  the  unseen  rivals  who  had  so  per 
sistently  contested  Mark  Twain's  right  to  the  exclu 
sive  use  of  our  "pencil."  Before  the  next  meeting  I 
was  urged  to  take  a  prominent  part  in  another  piece 
of  psychic  work,  and  to  persuade  both  my  husband 
and  Mrs.  Hays  to  join  me.  I  said  nothing  to  either 
one  of  them  about  it,  intending  to  discuss  it  with  them 
when  the  evening's  work  was  over.  As  soon,  however, 


THE  COMING  OF  "JAP  HERRON"         11' 

as  we  applied  our  finger  tips  to  the  planchette,  this 
astonishing  communication  came: 

"I  am  afraid  that  my  pencil-holders  are  going  to  get 
wound  up  in  other  stuff  that  will  make  much  confusion. 
I  heard  Emily  talking  over  the  telephone  and  making 
promises  that  are  not  good  for  our  work." 

When  I  had  been  questioned  concerning  the  meaning 
of  this  rebuke,  and  had  explained  its  import,  Mark 
added:  "If  we  are  going  to  make  good  there  must  be 
concentration,  to  that  end.  Get  busy."  We  did!  It 
was  a  hot  July  night,  and  the  planchette  flew  over 
the  board  so  swiftly  that  at  times  I  could  scarcely  keep 
pace  with  it  as  I  pronounced  the  letters.  With  other 
amanuenses  I  had  been  forced  to  pronounce  the  fin 
ished  words,  and  to  repeat  sentences  in  whole  or  in 
part;  but  after  my  husband  came  into  the  work  this 
was  not  necessary.  As  much  as  a  score  of  letters  might 
be  run  together,  to  be  divided  into  words  after  the 
dictation  was  ended.  Sometimes,  when  I  had  failed 
utterly  to  catch  the  thought,  and  would  hesitate  or 
ask  to  have  the  thing  repeated,  my  husband  would  say 
to  me:  "Don't  stop  him.  I  know  what  it  means." 
Mrs.  Hays  avoided  looking  at  the  board  lest  her  own 
mind  interfere  with  the  transmission,  and  with  less 
efficient  help,  the  entire  responsibility  had  been  on  me. 
When  I  came  to  realize  that  nothing  was  expected  of 
me  beyond  the  mere  pronouncing  of  the  letters,  the 
three  of  us  developed  swiftly  into  a  smoothly  working 


12         THE  COMING  OF  "JAP  HERRON" 

machine.  Yet  Mark  was  constantly  worried  for  fear 
that  my  heart  would  be  alienated  and  that  I  would  "go 
chasing  after  strange  gods,"  as  he  once  put  it. 

When  he  had  finished  the  fifth  installment  of  the 
story,  with  a  climax  that  surprised  and  puzzled  us,  he 
said: 

"I  reckon  we  had  better  lay  by  for  a  few  days  till 
I  get  this  thing  riffled  out.  It  has  slipped  its  tether. 
I  have  had  such  things  happen  often.  Don't  get 
scared." 

We  discussed  the  use  of  the  word  "riffle,"  and  then 
Mark  became  serious. 

"I  don't  want  to  be  disappointed  in  the  Hannibal 
girl.  I  have  been  trying  for  several  years  to  get 
through  to  the  light.  I  don't  want  a  false  sentiment 
for  a  crew  of  fanatics  to  wreck  my  chance.  I  don't 
want  to  act  nasty,  but  if  you  go  into  that  other  work 
I  am  likely  to  ruin  your  reputation.  You  are  likely 
to  explode  into  some  of  the  mediocre  piffle  that  is  the 
height  and  depth  of  such  would-be  communications  with 
the  other  world.  There  is  nothing  to  hold  to.  So,  my 
dear  girls,  if  you  want  a  future,  cut  it  out.  I  don't 
want  to  command  all  your  time,  but  right  now  it  is 
best  to  avoid  all  complications." 

It  is  needless  to  say  I  declined  the  invitation.  After 
this,  whenever  anything  went  wrong,  the  rebuke  or  com 
plaint  was  invariably  addressed  to  me.  When  there 
were  humorous  or  pleasant  things  to  be  said,  they  were 


THE  COMING  OF  "JAP  HERRON"         13 

dispensed  equally  to  the  three  of  us,  whom  Mark  Twain 
had  come  to  designate  as  "my  office  force."  Two  bits 
of  personal  communication  came  within  the  succeeding 
week  which  seem  to  have  a  bearing  on  the  whole  mys 
terious  experience.  That  second  installment  was 
undertaken  and  abandoned  again  and  again.  Finally 
he  said: 

"I  am  going  ahead  with  the  main  body  of  the  story. 
There  will  be  another  round  with  that  second  chapter, 
but  not  until  the  theme  is  fully  developed.  The  second 
chapter  sticks  in  my  throat  like  the  cockleburr  that  I 
tried  to  swallow  when  I  was  five.  It  won't  slip  down 
or  come  up." 

We  had  worked  patiently  on  the  latter  part  of  the 
narrative  and  had  accomplished  a  big  evening's  work, 
when  the  dictation  was  interrupted  by  this  remark: 

"It  is  going  good ;  but  I  sure  wish  that  I  had  Edwin's 
pipe." 

We  fairly  gasped  with  astonishment;  but  we  had 
no  time  for  comment,  as  the  planchette  continued  its 
amazing  revelation: 

"Smoke  up,  old  man,  for  auld  lang  syne.  In  the 
other  world  they  don't  know  Walter  Raleigh's  weed, 
and  I  have  not  found  Walter  yet  to  make  complaint. 
I  forget  about  it  till  I  get  Edwin's  smoke.  But  for 
pity's  sake,  Ed,  cut  out  that  tobacco  you  were  trying 
out.  It  made  me  sick.  I  hoped  it  would  get  you,  so 
that  you  wouldn't  try  it  again." 


14         THE  COMING  OF  "JAP  HERRON" 

My  husband,  whom  neither  Mrs.  Hays  nor  I  would, 
under  any  circumstances,  address  by  the  abbreviation 
of  his  name,  "Ed,"  asked  Mark  what  tobacco  he  had  in 
mind.  He  replied: 

"That  packet  you  were  substituting,  or  that  some 
one  that  had  a  grudge  against  you  gave  you." 

A  comparison  of  dates  revealed  the  fact  that  on  the 
evening  when  that  troublesome  second  installment  was 
transmitted,  my  husband  had  smoked  some  heavy  im 
ported  tobacco  that  had  been  given  to  him  by  a  friend 
he  had  met  that  afternoon.  The  circumstance  had 
passed  from  the  minds  of  all  of  us.  Indeed,  it  had  never 
impressed  us  in  the  least,  and  it  had  not  occurred  to 
any  of  us  that  our  unseen  visitor  still  retained  the 
sense  of  smell,  or  that  he  could  distinguish  between  two 
brands  of  tobacco.  He  had  given  evidence  of  both  sight 
and  hearing,  had  told  us  frequently  that  he  was  tired, 
at  the  end  of  a  long  evening's  work,  and  had  made  other 
incidental  revelations  of  his  environment  and  condition: 
but  his  reference  to  the  pipe  was  more  significant  than 
any  of  them. 

Early  in  August,  when  our  second  story  was  nearing 
completion,  the  transmission  began  with  this  curious 
bit,  which  none  of  us  understood  for  a  long  time: 

"Emily,  I  think  that  when  we  finish  this  story  we  will 
do  a  pastoral  of  Missouri.  There  appear  high  lights 
and  shadows,  purple  and  dark,  and  the  misty  pink  of 
dawnings  that  make  world-weary  ones  have  surcease." 


THE  COMING  OF  "JAP  HERRON"        15 

Not  until  "Jap  Herron"  was  more  than  half  finished 
did  we  realize  that  it  was  the  Missouri  pastoral.  There 
was  one  other  veiled  reference  to  that  story  which  must 
not  be  omitted.  We  had  planned  a  trip  to  New  York, 
for  some  time  in  October  or  early  November,  although 
we  had  never  discussed  it  while  at  the  board.  One 
evening  Mark  terminated  his  dictation  abruptly,  and 
said: 

"Emily,  I  think  well  of  your  plan."  I  asked  what 
plan  he  referred  to.  "New  York.  I  will  go,  too.  I 
will  try  to  convince  them  that  I  am  not  done  working. 
I  am  rejuvenated  and  want  to  finish  my  work.  When 
I  was  in  New  York  last  I  had  a  very  beautiful  dream. 
I  did  not  understand  it  then.  It  meant  that  my  days 
were  numbered,  and  gave  me  the  picture  of  an  angel 
bringing  a  book  from  heaven  to  earth,  and  on  its  cover 
was  blazoned  this :  MARK  TWAIN'S  COMPLIMENTS.  Ask 
them  what  they  think  about  that.  I  was  so  tired — so 
tired  that  I  could  not  rest.  A  cool  hand  seemed  to 
soothe  my  weariness  away  and  I  slept,  and,  sleeping, 
dreamed." 

When  I  found  that  passage  in  the  early  part  of  our 
record,  I  wondered  if  "Jap  Herron"  might  be  the  book 
sent  to  earth  with  Mark  Twain's  compliments.  I  asked 
him  about  it,  one  evening  when  our  regular  dictation 
had  been  finished.  The  reply  was  a  slow  journey  of  the 
planchette  to  the  word,  "Yes,"  followed  by  the  rapidly 
spelled  words,  "But  old  Mark  isn't  done  talking  yet." 


16        THE  COMING  OF  "JAP  HERRON" 

We  assumed  that  he  had  something  further  to  say  to 
us,  and  when  I  asked  him  what  he  wanted  to  talk  about, 
he  gave  this  tantalizing  reply: 

"Curious?  Wait  and  see."  Then,  after  a  pause,  "I 
shall  have  other  work  for  my  office  force." 

The  explanation  of  this  cryptic  statement  was  not 
given  until  we  had  completed  the  final  revision  of  the 
story.  Before  I  reveal  what  he  had  in  mind,  I  wish 
to  state  that  which  is  to  me  the  most  convincing  proof 
of  the  supernormal  origin  of  the  three  stories  that  had 
been  traced,  letter  by  letter,  on  our  transmission  board. 
That  they  come  through  Mrs.  Hays,  there  can  be  no 
doubt  whatever.  My  total  lack  of  psychic  power  has 
been  abundantly  demonstrated.  Mrs.  Hays  has  written 
much  light  fiction;  but  it  is  necessary  for  her  to  write 
a  story  at  one  sitting.  If  it  does  not  come  "all  in  one 
piece"  it  is  foredoomed  to  failure.  I  know  nothing  of 
Mark  Twain's  habits ;  but  in  all  the  work  we  have  done 
for  him,  the  first  draft  has  been  rough  and  vigorous, 
and  sweeping  changes  have  been  made  by  him  while  the 
work  was  undergoing  revision.  In  the  case  of  "Jap 
Herron"  some  of  the  most  important  changes  were 
made  without  a  rereading  of  the  story,  changes  that 
involved  incidents  which  we  had  forgotten,  and  for 
which  I  was  compelled  to  search  the  original  record. 
When  I  had  substituted  these  passages  for  the  ones  they 
were  to  supplant,  I  made  a  typewritten  copy  of  the 
entire  story  and  we  read  it  aloud  to  Mark.  Mrs.  Hays 


THE  COMING  OF  "JAP  HERRON"         17 

and  I  sat  with  our  finger  tips  on  the  planchette  so 
that  he  could  interrupt ;  but  he  made  only  a  few  minor 
corrections.  The  story  had  been  virtually  rewritten 
twice,  although  a  few  of  the  chapters,  as  they  now 
stand,  are  exactly  as  they  were  transmitted,  not  so 
much  as  a  word  having  been  changed.  The  only  change 
made  in  the  fourteenth  chapter  came  near  the  end, 
where  Mark  had  suggested  a  line  of  dashes  or  stars  to 
bridge  the  break  between  Jap's  leaving  his  mother  and 
the  announcement  that  his  mother  was  dead.  Forty- 
eight  words  were  dictated  to  show  what  Jap  actually 
did,  in  that  painful  interim,  the  three  sentences  being 
rounded  out  by  the  words,  "There,  I  think  that  sounds 
better." 

Sometimes,  in  the  course  of  the  revision,  we  have 
been  interrupted  by  the  jerkily  traced  words,  "Try 
this,"  or  "We'll  fix  that  better,"  or  "I  told  Emily  to 
take  out  those  repetitions."  It  has  happened  that  he 
used  the  same  word  four  times  in  one  paragraph,  and 
in  copying  I  have  substituted  the  obvious  synonym. 
Occasionally  he  did  not  approve  of  my  correction  and 
would  rebuke  me  sharply.  In  the  main  he  has  expressed 
himself  as  well  pleased  with  the  labor  I  have  spared 
him.  On  the  10th  of  January,  1916,  Mrs.  Hays  came 
to  my  home  for  a  last  reading  of  the  finished  manu 
script.  When  she  read  it  through,  I  asked  her  to  sit 
at  the  board  with  me.  There  was  something  about 
which  I  wanted  to  question  Mark,  and  I  did  not  wish 


18         THE  COMING  OF  "JAP  HERRON" 

her  mind  to  interfere  in  any  way  with  the  answer.  Mrs. 
Hays  had  had  two  curious  psychic  experiences  in  con 
nection  with  our  work.  The  first  came  to  her  when  we 
were  still  at  work  on  "A  Daughter  of  Mars."  It  was 
in  the  form  of  a  vivid  dream  in  which  Mark  Twain  said 
to  her,  "Don't  be  discouraged,  Lola.  All  that  we  have 
done  in  the  past  is  just  forging  the  hammer  for  the 
larger  strokes  we  are  going  to  make."  The  second 
was  similar;  but  the  man  who  appeared  to  her  was  a 
stocky,  bald-headed  man  in  a  frock  coat.  When  she 
asked  him  who  he  was  and  what  he  wanted,  he  replied, 
"Mark  Twain  sent  me  to  call  on  you." 

At  this  time,  "Jap  Herron"  was  being  revised,  and 
she  supposed  that  this  man,  with  the  striking  person 
ality,  would  be  introduced  somewhere.  However,  the 
story  was  ended,  and  no  such  character  had  appeared. 
I  wanted  to  know  whether  or  not  the  dream  was  sig 
nificant.  I  said: 

"Mark,  did  you  ever  send  anybody  to  call  on  Lola?" 
The  planchette  replied: 

"Yes,  I  sent  him.  We  will  do  another  story.  We 
will  wait  until  the  smoke  of  this  one  clears  away.  I 
want  Emily  to  have  a  rest,  and  many  other  things  will 
be  adjusted.  I  would  like  to  have  my  old  office  force. 
It  is  to  be  a  bigger  book  than  this  one — more  impor 
tant.  The  man  I  sent  you  was  Brent  Roberts." 

We  dropped  our  hands  in  amazement.  Brent  Rob 
erts  appears  twice  in  the  Jap  Herron  story.  He  is  not 


THE  COMING  OF  "JAP  HERRON"         19 

half  so  conspicuous  as  Holmes,  the  saloon-keeper,  or 
Hollins,  the  grocer.  In  truth,  we  had  scarcely  noticed 
him.  I  asked: 

"Mark,  are  you  going  to  give  a  sequel  to  Map  Her- 
ron'?"  He  said: 

"No.  Brent  Roberts  had  a  story  before  he  elected 
to  spend  his  last  years  in  Bloomtown.  Now,  girls,  don't 
speculate.  I  am  taking  care  of  Brent  Roberts." 

He  added  that  it  was  "up  to  Emily"  to  give  his  book 
to  the  world,  and  that  he  intended  to  explore  a  little 
of  the  Uncharted  Country  while  he  was  waiting  for 
his  office  force  to  resume  work.  Once  I  asked  him,  while 
he  was  transmitting  "A  Daughter  of  Mars,"  whether 
he  had  ever  visited  that  planet.  He  replied: 

"No,  this  is  pure  fiction.  I  elected  to  return  to 
earth.  I  wanted  to  take  the  taste  of  those  memoirs  out 
of  my  mouth." 

One  other  passage  from  the  early  record  may  profit 
ably  precede  the  actual  story  of  Jap's  coming.  We 
were  in  the  midst  of  the  most  critical  revision.  My 
husband  was  commanded  to  read  the  story,  paragraph 
by  paragraph.  When  there  was  no  comment,  the  plan- 
chette  remained  motionless  under  our  fingers,  but  there 
were  few  passages  that  escaped  some  change.  Several 
times  the  changed  wording  conflicted  with  something 
farther  along  in  the  story,  and  it  was  necessary  to  go 
back  and  make  another  correction.  The  revision  sheets 
covered  a  big  table,  and  my  husband  found  it  very 


20        THE  COMING  OF  "JAP  HERRON" 

exasperating  to  make  the  corrections.  At  length  Mark 
said  : 

"Smoke  up  and  cool  off,  old  boy.  Perhaps  I  should 
apologize.  The  last  secretary  I  had  used  to  wear  an 
ice-soaked  towel  inside  his  head.  The  girls  and  old 
Mark  together  make  a  riffle.  Well,  we  will  slow  up. 
In  my  ambition,  I  have  been  too  eager.  It  is  hard  to 
explain  how  great  a  thing  is  the  power  to  project  my 
mentality  through  the  clods  of  oblivion.  I  have  so 
long  sought  for  an  opening.  Be  patient,  please.  I  am 
not  carping.  I  get  Edwin's  position.  We  will  be  easy 
with  the  new  saddle,  so  the  nag  won't  run  away.  I 
heard  Edwin's  suggestion,  and  it  is  a  good  one.  We 
will  go  straight  through  the  story,  beginning  where 
we  left  off  to-night.  That  was  what  I  intended  to  do, 
but  that  second  chapter  nipped  me." 

When  next  we  met  we  had  no  thought  of  any  other 
work  than  the  revision  of  the  story  on  which  we  had 
been  working  at  frequent  intervals  for  about  two 
months.  We  never  knew  whether  a  session  at  the  board 
would  begin  with  a  bit  of  personal  conversation  or  a 
prolonged  stretch  of  dictation.  We  held  ourselves 
passive,  ready  to  fall  in  with  the  humor  or  whim  of  our 
astonishingly  human  though  still  intangible  guest. 
The  beginning  of  that  evening's  work — it  was  the  6th 
of  September — was  almost  too  great  an  upheaval  for 
me.  The  planchette  fairly  raced  as  it  spelled  the 
words : 


THE  COMING  OF  "JAP  HERRON"        21 

"This  story  will  have  legitimate  chapters.  Nosy 
nopsis.  Then  ameisjapherron.  Begin.  Asevery  well- 
bred  story  has  a  hero,  and  as  the  reseems  better  ma 
terial  in  jap  than  in  any  other  party  to  this  story,  we 
will  dignify  him." 

I  wanted  to  stop,  but  my  husband  insisted  that  I 
make  no  break  in  the  impatient  dictation.  He  had 
perceived  that  the  first  string  of  letters  spelled  the 
words,  "No  synopsis.  The  name  is  Jap  Herron,"  but  I 
could  not  see  his  copy,  and  to  my  mind  the  sentences 
spelled  chaos.  A  little  farther  along  I  ventured  an 
interruption,  when  we  had  transmitted  the  sentence, 
"The  folks  in  Happy  Hollow  continued  to  say  Mag 
nesia  long  after  she  left  its  fragrant  depths."  I  had 
just  spelled  out  the  name,  Agnesia,  and  I  was  too 
deeply  engrossed  with  the  labor  of  following  the  letters 
to  even  attempt  to  understand  the  meaning.  I  turned 
to  my  husband  and  said: 

"It  probably  didn't  intend  to  stop  on  that  letter  M," 
whereat  the  planchette  rebuked  my  stupidity  thus: 
"Emily,  they  called  her  Magnesia." 

After  that,  I  contrived  to  get  control  of  my  nerves, 
and  the  rest  of  the  dictation  was  not  so  difficult.  When 
we  had  received  the  crisp  final  sentence,  "And  stay  he 
did,"  the  planchette  went  right  on  with  this  informa 
tion,  "This  is  the  first  copy  of  the  first  chapter.  There 
will  be  25  or  more  chapters.  This  is  enough  for  this 
time,  as  the  office  force  is  a  little  weak.  But  results 


22         THE  COMING  OF  "JAP  HERRON" 

.  .  .  very  good.  We  will  finish  the  other  story  and  dip 
into  this  at  the  next  session.  There  will  be  better 
speed  in  this,  for  there  will  be  no  revision  until  it  is 
finished.  We  will  work  hard  and  fast.  Emily  may  meet 
folks  she  knows  in  this  tale,  for  she  knows  a  town  with 
a  river  and  a  Happy  Hollow.  I  did  not  intend  to  start 
another  story  so  soon,  but  other  influences  are  so  strong 
that  they  may  try  to  dominate  the  board.  This  will 
not  tire  you  so  much.  You  must  be  determined  not  to 
permit  intruders.  If  they  are  recognized,  you  will  not 
be  free  of  them  again.  I  am  pushed  aside.  Leave  the 
board  when  they  appear.  Good-bye." 

The  use  of  the  name,  Happy  Hollow,  forms  a  link 
with  Hannibal;  but  if  any  of  the  characters  in  "Jap 
Herron"  were  drawn  from  life,  they  must  have  belonged 
to  Mark  Twain's  generation  and  not  to  mine.  Mark 
never  seems  to  take  into  account  the  fact  that  he  left 
Hannibal  before  I  was  born,  and  that  there  have  been 
many  changes  in  the  old  town.  The  character  of  Jacky 
Herron  may  have  been  suggested  by  a  disreputable 
drunken  fisherman  whose  experiences  I  have  heard  my 
father  relate;  but  there  is  one  little  touch  in  that  first 
chapter  that  must  have  come  from  Mark's  own  mind, 
since  the  underlying  fact  was  not  known  to  any  of  us 
until  we  read  Walter  Prichard  Eaton's  article  on  birds' 
nests,  months  later.  When  we  transmitted  that  state 
ment,  "The  father  of  the  little  Herrons  was  a  king 
fisher,"  none  of  us  knew  that  the  kingfisher's  home  nest 


THE  COMING  OF  "JAP  HERRON"        23 

is  a  filthy  hole,  close  to  the  river  bank.    The  application 
is  too  perfect  to  have  been  accidental. 

Before  another  chapter  of  the  story  was  transmitted, 
I  went  to  spend  a  morning  with  Mrs.  Hays.  At  the 
request  of  her  son,  we  consented  to  allay  his  curiosity 
by  a  visible  demonstration  of  the  workings  of  the  mys 
terious  board,  of  which  he  had  necessarily  heard  much. 
He  hoped  to  receive  some  definite  communication  from 
his  father,  or  the  sister  who  had  died  in  her  girlhood; 
but  this  is  what  he  recorded: 

"Emily,  I  gave  those  synopses  not  for  a  guide  but  to 
prevent  others  from  imposing  their  ideas  and  confusing 
you.  It  might  be  said  that  it  made  it  easier  for  you, 
but  that  idea  is  wrong.  It  would  be  easier  to  write  the 
story  direct.  You  have  learned  that  this  was  wise, 
because  constant  efforts  have  been  made  to  break  in 
and  alter  the  stories.  For  this  reason  I  gave  you  the 
synopses,  so  that  you  could  not  be  deceived.  Now  I  am 
going  to  trust  you.  I  intended  to  advise  you  that  it 
would  be  a  more  convincing  psychic  record,  if  you  have 
nothing  on  which  a  subconscious  mind  might  be  said 
to  be  working.  The  synopsis  was  for  your  protection, 
and  has  no  value  to  the  record.  At  first  you  had  such  a 
conglomerate  method  of  working  that  it  was  necessary. 
You  did  not  recognize  the  difficulties  that  were  likely 
to  occur.  You  were  apt  to  employ  temporary  help,  so 
eliminate." 

Just  what  was  meant  by  "temporary  help"  is  not 


24         THE  COMING  OF  "JAP  HERRON" 

apparent;  but  there  was  no  opportunity  to  question 
him  further,  for  at  that  moment  we  were  interrupted 
by  the  arrival  of  another  luncheon  guest  and  the  board 
was  put  aside.  We  devoted  two  sessions  to  the  revision 
and  finishing  touches  of  the  troublesome  short  story, 
and  then  we  plunged  into  the  transmission  of  "Jap 
Herron"  in  deadly  earnest. 

As  far  as  possible,  we  sat  twice  a  week,  on  Mondays 
and  Fridays.  We  usually  worked  uninterruptedly  for 
two  hours,  with  no  sound  save  that  of  my  voice  as  I 
pronounced  the  letters  and  punctuation  marks  over 
which  the  pointer  of  the  planchette  paused  in  its  swift 
race  across  the  board.  My  husband  discovered  early 
in  the  work  that  if  he  permitted  himself  the  luxury 
of  a  smile  he  was  in  danger  of  distracting  Mrs.  Hays, 
who  always  sat  facing  him,  and  thus  of  bringing  about 
confusion  in  the  record.  Under  Mark's  specific  instruc 
tion  she  has  schooled  herself  to  keep  her  mind  as  nearly 
blank  as  is  possible  for  a  woman  who  is  absolutely 
conscious  and  normal,  and  the  evidence  that  some 
thing  humorous  was  being  transmitted  through  her 
would  be  diverting,  to  say  the  least.  As  for  my  own 
part  in  the  work,  I  seldom  realized  the  import  of  the 
sentences  I  had  spelled  out,  my  whole  attention  being 
concentrated  on  the  rapidly  gliding  pointer.  When  my 
husband  read  aloud  the  copy  he  had  taken  down  it 
almost  invariably  came  to  Mrs.  Hays  and  me  as  some 
thing  entirely  new. 


THE  COMING  OF  "JAP  HERRON"         25 

The  story  of  Jap  Herron,  as  it  stands  completed, 
does  not  follow  the  original  order  of  the  first  fifteen 
chapters.  The  early  part  of  the  tale  was  handled  in  a 
manner  so  sketchy  and  rapid  in  its  action  that  three 
whole  chapters  and  seven  fragments  of  chapters  were 
dictated  and  inserted  after  the  work  was  finished.  In 
the  original  copy  the  second  chapter  suffered  little 
change  up  to  the  point  of  George  Thomas's  advent, 
with  the  suggestion  that  he  might  bring  in  some  more 
turnips.  Following  the  disaster  to  Judge  Bowers's 
speech,  Mark  took  a  short  cut  to  pave  the  way  for  the 
next  chapter.  It  ran  thus : 

"But  bad  luck  cannot  camp  on  your  trail  forever. 
In  the  gladsome  June-time,  Ellis  married  Flossy  Bow 
ers,  and  her  dowry  of  two  thousand  dollars  and  her 
following  of  kin  set  the  Herald  on  its  feet." 

These  two  sentences  were  expanded  into  the  more 
important  half  of  the  third  chapter,  almost  five  months 
after  they  had  been  dictated,  and  this  without  a  reread 
ing  of  the  story.  At  another  time,  when  this  curious 
kind  of  revision  was  under  way,  Mark  dictated  the  lat 
ter  part  of  the  second  chapter,  wherein  Ellis  Hinton 
tells  Jap  how  he  happened  to  be  starving  in  Bloomtown. 
When  he  had  finished  the  dictation,  with  the  words, 
"My  boy,  that  blue  calico  lady  was  Mrs.  Kelly  Jones," 
he  continued: 

"Emily  will  know  where  to  fit  it  in." 

This  fitting  in  was  not  extremely  difficult,  since  there 


26         THE  COMING  OF  "JAP  HERRON" 

was  only  one  place  in  the  story  into  which  each  of  the 
inserted  chapters  or  fragments  could  be  made  to  fit; 
but  the  original  copy  had  to  be  read  several  times 
before  these  thin  places  became  apparent,  and  I  got 
no  help  whatever  from  Mark.  Once,  when  I  implored 
him  to  tell  me  where  a  certain  brief  but  gripping  para 
graph  belonged,  he  replied,  "Emily,  that  is  your 
job.  I  don't  want  the  Hannibal  girl  to  fall  down  on  it." 

On  that  second  Monday  night  in  September,  when 
the  "office  force"  settled  itself  to  serious  work,  my 
husband  read  to  us  the  copy  we  had  transmitted.  The 
chapter  ended  with  what  is  now  the  closing  paragraph 
of  the  third  chapter: 

"The  Herald  put  on  a  new  dress,  and  the  hell-box  was 
dumped  full  of  the  discarded,  mutilated  types  that  had 
so  long  given  strabismus  to  the  patient  readers  of  the 
Bloomtown  Herald" 

The  diet  of  turnips  and  sorghum  and  the  other 
humorous  touches  of  the  narrative  overwhelmed  us  with 
laughter,  whereat  the  planchette  under  our  fingers 
wrote : 

"Sounds  like  Mark,  eh?" 

I  asked  him  if  he  was  satisfied  with  the  use  of  the  word 
"Herald"  twice  in  that  last  sentence.  He  replied: 
"You  must  excuse  me.  I  am  all  in.  I  told  you  I  would 
leave  minor  points  to  your  pencil.  T-i-r-e-d.  Good- 
bye." 

Our  first  acquaintance  with  Wat  Harlow,  as  he  ap- 


THE  COMING  OF  "JAP  HERRON"        27 

peared  in  the  fourth  chapter,  gave  little  promise  of  the 
character  into  which  he  was  destined  to  be  developed. 
To  the  three  of  us,  who  laughed  over  the  episode  of  the 
vermilion  handbill,  he  appeared  to  be  nothing  more 
than  a  third-rate  country  politician.  In  the  original 
transcription  he  received  only  an  occasional  passing 
touch,  until  the  death  of  Ellis  brought  him  forth  in  a 
new  light.  We  did  not  know  then  what  Ellis  had  meant 
by  "that  reformed  auctioneer,"  for  the  story  of  Wat's 
connection  with  the  upbuilding  of  Bloomtown,  as  it  is 
set  forth  in  the  sixth  chapter,  was  not  told  until  we 
were  well  along  with  the  work  of  revision. 

One  of  the  most  interesting  personal  touches,  to  be 
found  only  in  our  private  record,  was  introduced  at  the 
end  of  the  fourth  chapter.  It  had  been  a  long  stretch 
of  dictation,  and  when  the  planchette  stopped  I  asked 
if  there  was  any  more.  The  pointer  gave  only  this, 
"No — 30."  Having  had  no  experience  with  printing 
offices,  I  was  mystified  until  my  husband  explained  that 
"30  on  the  hook"  means  the  end  of  a  given  piece  of 
work. 

Mark  once  made  use  of  the  expression,  "the  story 
contains  a  great  deal  of  brevity  that  will  have  to  be 
untied  later  on."  This  untying  process  is  nowhere 
more  aptly  illustrated  than  in  the  fourth  chapter  of 
our  original  copy,  a  brief  chapter  that  contained  the 
condensed  material  of  Wat  Harlow's  letter  to  Jap,  the 
birth  of  little  J.W.  and  Isabel  Granger's  first  kiss. 


28 

There  was  nothing  about  Bill's  boyhood,  no  record  of 
Jap's  home  surroundings,  none  of  the  amusing  details 
of  the  printing  office  wherein  Jap  and  Bill  were  learning 
their  trade.  All  these  incidents,  which  seem  so  essen 
tial  to  the  story,  were  introduced  when  the  first  draft 
of  the  story  had  been  completed.  The  seventh  chapter, 
which  has  to  do  with  the  babyhood  of  little  J.W.,  was 
dictated  after  the  revision  had  apparently  been  com 
pleted.  When  I  asked  Mark  why  he  inserted  it,  the 
planchette  made  this  curious  reply: 

"I  was  thinking  that  we'd  better  soften  the  shock  of 
the  boy's  death." 

For  us,  through  whom  the  story  was  being  trans 
mitted,  there  was  no  softening  of  Ellis  Hinton's  death. 
We  knew  from  the  foregoing  chapter  that  the  country 
editor  had  gone  to  the  mountains  for  his  health,  and 
that  Flossy  had  no  hope ;  but  when  we  had  recorded  the 
words :  "Jap  closed  the  press  upon  the  inky  type,  and 
gathered  the  great  bunches  of  fragrant  blossoms  and 
heaped  them  upon  the  press,  to  be  forever  silent,"  a 
great  wave  of  sadness  swept  over  me,  I  knew  not  why. 
The  action  of  the  planchette  was  so  rapid  that  I 
could  not  stop  to  think  or  question.  It  was  as  if  the 
man  dictating  the  story  had  an  unpleasant  task  before 
him,  which  he  wished  to  have  done  with  as  soon  as 
possible.  When  the  final  words,  "At  rest.  FLOSSY," 
had  been  spelled  out,  and  the  planchette  stopped 
abruptly,  Mrs.  Hays  cried : 


THE  COMING  OF  "JAP  HERRON"        29 

"My  God,  what  has  happened!"  and  I  looked  up  to 
see  that  she  was  very  white,  and  tears  were  slipping 
down  her  cheeks. 

"Ellis  is  dead,"  my  husband  said,  very  simply.  He 
had  foreseen  the  end,  had  grasped  the  infinite  pathos 
of  that  old  Washington  press,  decked  as  a  funeral 
casket  with  the  flowers  that  had  been  sent  to  usher  in 
the  new  regime. 

When  the  evening's  copy  had  been  read,  I  asked 
Mark  if  he  wished  to  comment  on  it. 

"Not  to-night,  Emily,"  the  planchette  spelled.  "I 
am  all  broken  up.  I  didn't  want  Ellis  to  die.  I  tried 
to  figure  a  way  to  save  him ;  but  I  couldn't  make  it  go." 

When  we  met  again,  on  the  2d  of  October,  the  dicta 
tion  began  with  these  words : 

"I  want  Edwin  to  go  back  to  the  beginning  of  the 
last  chapter.  I  left  out  a  sentence  that  is  necessary. 
It  explains  why  Ellis  left  by  rail.  You  insert." 

Then  he  dictated  the  passage  relating  to  the  new 
railroad  and  the  temporary  station.  When  he  had 
finished  he  said,  "Go  on  with  the  story,"  and  the  next 
sentence  began,  "When  Ellis  went  away  it  was  to  the 
sound  of  jollity."  The  reference  to  Robert  Louis 
Stevenson  was  new  to  both  of  us,  and  we  have  not 
sought  to  verify  the  incident.  That  Mark  wanted  it 
included  in  his  story  was  sufficient  for  us. 

That  next  chapter  contained  another  accumulation 
of  brevity  which  was  afterward  untied.  The  funeral, 


30         THE  COMING  OF  "JAP  HERRON" 

the  reading  of  Ellis  Hinton's  will,  Judge  Bowers's  can 
didacy,  the  nomination  of  Jap  Herron  as  the  ugliest 
man  in  Bloomtown,  Bill's  first  spree  and  the  local 
option  fight,  all  these  were  sketched  with  the  sharp 
ness  and  sudden  transition  of  pictures  on  a  cinemato 
graph  screen.  The  following  chapter  was  almost  as 
tightly  packed  with  incident,  and  in  the  midst  of  it 
there  was  a  break,  with  an  astonishing  explanation. 
Three  evenings  in  succession  we  had  had  trouble  with 
the  planchette.  It  had  seemed  to  me  that  Mrs.  Hays 
was  trying  to  pull  it  from  beneath  my  fingers.  Mean 
while  she  had  mentally  accused  me  of  digital  heaviness. 
She  uses  the  finger  tips  of  her  left  hand  while  I  use 
my  right.  As  a  rule  our  touch  is  so  light  that  the 
planchette  glides  automatically.  On  these  three  eve 
nings  we  had  left  the  board  with  cramped  fingers,  and 
a  general  sense  of  dissatisfaction.  Several  sentences 
that  were  plainly  spurious  were  afterward  stricken 
from  the  record ;  but  we  had  forgotten  about  the  other 
scribes  who  wanted  "a  pencil  on  earth,"  until  Mark 
interrupted  the  story  to  say: 

"I  must  ask  you  to  be  wary  and  sharp  to  dismiss 
impostors.  Right  now  there  are  more  than  twenty 
hands  trying  to  control  your  dictation.  It  is  very 
hard  for  me.  I  am  disconsolate,  and  powerless  to  help 
myself.  If  we  do  not  watch  every  avenue,  our  work  is 
spoiled.  There  has  been  a  constant  struggle  for  my 


THE  COMING  OF  "JAP  HERRON"        31 

rights.  I  only  ask  a  little  help,  and  you  are  all  my 
hope.  If  you  fail  me,  I  am  undone." 

This  illuminating  outburst  served  to  clear  the  atmos 
phere,  and  the  three  chapters  were  afterward  expanded 
into  seven,  much  of  the  same  diction  being  reproduced. 
It  was  as  if  Mark,  knowing  the  difficulties  on  his  own 
side  of  the  shadow-line,  had  tried  to  get  at  least  the 
outline  of  his  story  down  on  paper,  lest  he  lose  his  hold 
entirely.  After  that  evening  we  had  almost  no  trouble 
with  intruders. 

The  story  of  Jones,  of  the  Barton  Standard,  came 
to  us  like  a  thunder  clap  from  a  cloudless  sky,  for  the 
part  which  old  Pee-Dee  Jones  played  in  the  develop 
ment  of  Bloomtown  and  Barton  was  not  related  until 
we  had  begun  the  work  of  revision.  In  the  original 
story  of  that  near-fight,  Mark  gave  us  a  significant 
cross-light  on  the  conditions  under  which  he  lives.  The 
marshal  had  appeared  in  the  office  at  the  crucial  mo 
ment,  as  if  he  had  dropped  through  the  roof  or  arisen 
out  of  the  floor.  Several  times  in  the  earlier  part  of  the 
work  the  characters  had  thus  appeared  without  obvious 
means  of  locomotion,  and  I  had  called  attention  to  the 
inconsistency,  with  the  result  that  Mark  had  dictated 
a  few  words  to  show  how  or  whence  the  new  arrival 
had  come.  When  Wilfred  Jones  shouted  to  the  mar 
shal,  "I  demand  protection,"  my  husband,  who  was 
reading  the  evening's  copy  aloud  to  us,  said: 


"How  does  the  marshal  happen  to  be  there  ?  I  don't 
see  any  previous  mention  of  him." 

Instantly  the  planchette,  which  we  always  kept  in 
readiness  under  our  finger  tips,  began  to  move.  It  dic 
tated  this: 

"You  might  say,  eat  that  moment  the  town  marshal, 
wearing  his  star  pinned  to  his  blue  flannel  shirt,  strolled 
in.'  I  have  been  away  from  the  need  of  going  up 
stairs  and  down-stairs  for  so  long  that  I  forget  about 
it." 

"How  do  you  get  from  one  place  to  another,  Mark?" 
I  asked. 

"Now,  Emily,  curiosity !  But  you  know  we  haven't 
any  Pullman  cars  or  elevators  here.  When  I  want  to 
be  at  a  place  where  I  am  free  to  go — why,  I  am  there." 

He  took  occasion,  when  our  difficulties  seemed  to  be 
at  an  end  and  his  grip  on  his  "pencil"  was  once  more 
firmly  established,  to  make  it  very  plain  to  me  that  I 
alone  was  responsible  for  the  annoyance  we  had  had. 
He  put  it  thus : 

"Things  will  be  all  right  if  you  don't  give  way  to 
any  more  curiosity.  In  the  beginning  I  told  you  that 
it  would  not  do.  Emily  wants  to  investigate  too  much. 
It  must  be  one  or  all.  Edwin  and  I  understand.  It 
was  you  that  mixed  the  type.  Lola  must  be  passive. 
If  she  tries  to  watch  for  intruders,  she  gets  in  my  way. 
So  it  is  up  to  the  Hannibal  girl." 

I  do  not  know,  even  now,  how  I  could  have  prevented 


THE  COMING  OF  "JAP  HERRON"         33 

the  trouble  that  well-nigh  wrecked  our  work.  It  is  true 
I  had  taken  part  in  another  psychic  demonstration,  but 
it  was  in  a  remote  part  of  the  city  and  it  had  nothing 
to  do  with  Mark  Twain's  "pencil."  However,  I  took 
no  further  chance  with  psychic  investigation. 

When  Jap  Herron  was  elected  Mayor  of  Bloomtown, 
and  the  girl  he  loved  had  walked  right  into  his  aston 
ished  arms,  it  seemed  to  us  that  the  story  must  be 
ended.  We  had  forgotten  that  Jap  ever  had  a  family 
of  his  own,  a  mother  and  two  sisters,  and  when  the 
drunken  hag  reeled  into  the  Herald  office  we  were  as 
greatly  horrified  as  Jap  himself  was.  I  had  put  my 
husband's  carefully  kept  copy  into  type-written  form, 
and  it  occurred  to  me  to  get  the  opinion  of  a  master 
critic  on  the  story,  not  as  evidence  of  the  survival  of 
the  human  mind  after  physical  death,  but  as  pure 
fiction.  Acting  upon  the  impulse,  and  without  telling 
either  my  husband  or  Mrs.  Hays  what  I  intended  to  do, 
I  took  the  copy  to  William  Marion  Reedy,1  permitting 
him  to  infer  that  I  had  created  it,  and  asked  him  to 
tell  me  whether,  in  his  judgment,  the  story  was  worth 

1  William  Marion  Reedy,  Editor  and  Publisher  of  Reedy's  Mir 
ror,  a  weekly  journal  published  in  St.  Louis,  has  long  been  in 
terested  in  psychic  phenomena,  as  a  source  of  exotic  and  un 
usual  literature.  He  has  also  discovered  and  developed  much 
purely  terrestrial  literary  talent,  having  brought  out  some  of 
the  best  poets  and  fiction  writers  of  present-day  America,  As 
a  critic,  he  is  a  recognized  master. 


34         THE  COMING  OF  "JAP  HERRON" 

finishing.  It  was  the  beginning  of  the  week,  when  the 
issuing  of  the  Mirror  consumed  all  his  time,  and  while 
I  was  waiting  for  his  verdict  we  received  three  more 
chapters.  In  the  first  of  these  we  had  a  new  light  on 
Isabel  Granger's  character,  and  came  for  the  first  time 
absolutely  to  love  Bill  Bowers.  After  that  nothing  that 
Bill  might  do  would  shake  our  faith  in  his  ability  to 
make  good  in  the  end.  He  might  be  weak  and  foolish, 
but  we  understood  why  Jap  believed  in  and  loved  him. 
We  were  jubilant  when  Rosy  Raymond  was  eliminated 
from  the  game,  for  we  feared,  whenever  we  permitted 
ourselves  to  speculate,  that  Bill  would  marry  her,  and 
regret  the  step.  We  assumed  that  the  son  of  the  much- 
married  Judge  Bowers  had  inherited  a  nature  suffi 
ciently  mobile  to  recover  from  the  shock  of  the  silly 
girl's  perfidy. 

While  this  unexpected  development  of  the  story  was 
being  revealed  to  us,  William  Marion  Reedy  sent  me, 
in  the  envelope  with  the  first  ten  chapters  of  "Jap  Her- 
ron,"  a  criticism  that  fairly  made  me  tingle  with  de 
light.  Had  the  work  been  my  own,  I  could  not  have 
been  more  pleased  with  his  unstinted  praise.  I  wanted 
to  go  to  him  at  once  and  confess  the  truth ;  but  he  was 
not  in  his  office  when  I  called. 

Two  of  the  succeeding  chapters  were  taken  down  by 
friends  who  had  been  let  into  the  secret  of  our  work  and 
had  asked  permission  to  sit  with  us.  It  was  the  time 
of  year  when  my  husband  could  seldom  spare  an  eve- 


THE  COMING  OF  "JAP  HERRON"        35 

ning  from  his  work,  and  Mark  consented  to  break  into 
his  beloved  office-force  arrangement,  for  the  sake  of 
expediency.  Three  men  and  five  women  served  us  in 
the  capacity  of  amanuenses  while  the  latter  third  of 
the  book  was  being  transmitted.  The  first  deviation 
from  our  original  arrangement  came  in  connection  with 
the  dictation  of  the  seventeenth  chapter,  the  chapter 
that  ends  with  the  death  of  Flossy  and  her  son.  We 
were  three  sympathetic  women,  and  when  the  planchette 
had  traced  the  words,  "It  was  a  smile  of  heavenly 
beauty,  as  the  pure  soul  of  Ellis  Hinton's  wife  flew  to 
join  her  loved  ones,"  we  three  burst  simultaneously  into 
violent  weeping.  I  have  never  experienced  more  genu 
ine  grief  at  the  grave  of  a  departed  friend  or  relative 
than  I  felt  when  this  woman,  who  had  come  to  be  more 
than  human  to  me,  was  released  from  her  envelope  of 
mortal  clay. 

The  following  day  Mrs.  Hays  and  I  were  invited  to 
the  home  of  a  delightful  little  Scotch  woman  who  asked 
us  to  bring  the  planchette  board.  She  knew  nothing 
of  the  story,  and  had  no  intimation  of  the  personality 
on  the  other  side  who  was  sending  it  across,  through 
our  planchette;  nevertheless  she  was  willing  to  keep 
copy  for  us.  The  chapter  she  wrote  down  is  the  eigh 
teenth  in  the  finished  story,  Jap's  funeral  sermon 
and  Isabel's  song  beside  Flossy's  coffin.  Even  now  I 
cannot  think  of  that  scene  without  a  swelling  of  the 


36         THE  COMING  OF  "JAP  HERRON" 

throat  and  a  blinding  rush  of  tears.  It  is  needless 
to  say  we  wept  when  the  dictation  was  ended. 

When  our  hostess  had  read  aloud  the  copy  I  asked 
our  invisible  companion  if  he  had  anything  more  to  say. 
I  avoided  mentioning  his  name,  for  we  did  not  wish  his 
identity  disclosed.  The  planchette  traced  the  curious 
words : 

"You  know  that  the  air  gets  pretty  damp  for  an 
old  boy  after  this." 

I  looked  out  of  the  window.  It  was  a  murky  Novem 
ber  afternoon,  and  I  asked,  "Do  you  feel  the  dampness 
of  the  material  atmosphere?"  Like  a  flash  came  the 
reply : 

"Emily,  girl,  you  have  been  getting  sob  stuff." 

Then  I  yearned  to  get  my  fingers  in  his  shock  of 
white  hair,  for  I  knew  Mark  Twain  was  laughing  at  me. 
But  I  had  that  which  gave  me  consolation,  for  I  had 
brought  with  me  Mr.  Reedy's  letter,  analyzing  and 
commenting  upon  the  story  that  Mark  had  created. 
Incidentally  Mrs.  Reedy  had  asked  Mrs.  Hays  and  me 
to  come  to  her  home  the  following  day  to  luncheon.  I 
had  told  her  that  Mrs.  Hays  possessed  a  high  degree 
of  psychic  power,  and  I  consented  to  bring  our  board 
for  a  demonstration.  I  wanted  to  see  Mr.  Reedy  alone 
and  explain  to  him  that  "Jap  Herron"  had  come  to 
us  over  that  insensate  board,  but  opportunity  was 
denied  me.  As  soon  as  luncheon  was  over  we  went 
up  to  that  beautiful  yellow  room  in  which  the  best  of 


THE  COMING  OF  "JAP  HERRON"         37 

'Reedy's  Mirror  is  created,  and  Mrs.  Hays  and  I 
placed  the  board  on  our  knees.  As  soon  as  Mr.  Reedy's 
fountain  pen  was  ready  for  action  our  planchette 
began : 

"Well,  I  should  doff  my  plaidie  and  don  a  kirtle,  for 
'tis  not  the  sands  o'  Dee  but  the  wearing  o'  the  green." 
There  was  a  wide  sweep  of  the  planchette,  and  then, 
"  'Tis  not  the  shine  of  steel  that  always  reflects ;  but 
it  is  the  claymore  that  cuts.  Both  are  made  of  steel 
and  both  will  mirror  sometimes  the  shillalah.  Yet  the 
shillalah  is  better  than  the  claymore,  for  the  man  that 
is  cut  will  run ;  but  if  ye  slug  him  with  the  blackthorn 
he  will  have  to  listen.  This  is  just  a  flicker  of  high 
light.  Bill  jumped  from  bed  as  the  rattle  of  the  latch 
announced  the  arrival  of  a  visitor." 

My  heart  thumped  wildly  for  a  moment,  then  sank. 
I  knew  that  the  Bill  referred  to  was  Bill  Bowers,  and 
not  the  editor  whom  hundreds  delight  to  call  "Bill 
Reedy,"  and  I  knew,  too,  that  it  would  be  only  a  mo 
ment  until  he  must  realize  that  the  sentences  he  was 
writing  down  from  my  dictation  were  part  and  parcel 
of  the  story  whose  first  ten  chapters  he  had  read  and 
praised.  I  dared  not  lift  my  eyes  from  the  board,  yet 
I  wanted  to  stop  and  explain  that  I  had  not  intended 
to  deceive  him- — that  I  only  wanted  an  unbiased  opinion 
of  Mark  Twain's  story.  In  vain  I  tried  to  stop  the 
whirling  planchette,  my  voice  so  husky  that  I  could 
scarcely  pronounce  the  letters.  It  went  right  on,  with 


38         THE  COMING  OF  "JAP  HERRON" 

a  situation  that  neither  Mrs.  Hays  nor  I  had  antici 
pated.  We  had  schooled  ourselves  not  to  speculate, 
yet  the  previous  afternoon  we  had  left  Jap  in  a  fainting 
condition  and  on  the  verge  of  a  long  illness.  The  chap 
ter  we  transmitted  that  day  was  the  story  of  a  guber 
natorial  election  in  a  small  Missouri  town. 

Subsequently,  when  Mark  gave  us  the  intervening 
chapter,  Jap's  visit  to  the  cemetery  and  the  humorous 
incidents  of  the  campaign,  I  asked  him: 

"Why  didn't  you  give  this  chapter  last  Thursday?" 

"I  thought  that  election  would  amuse  Reedy.  Don't 
worry,  Emily.  He  understood  you.  He  knows  the 
Hannibal  girl  is  honest,"  was  the  comforting  reply. 

When  the  revision  of  the  story  was  under  way,  and 
several  fragments  had  been  dictated,  the  planchette 
spelled  the  words,  "I  want  to  add  something  to  the 
Reedy  chapter,"  and  without  further  ado  it  proceeded : 
"The  Bloomtown  Herald  did  itself  proud  that  week." 
That  fragment  was  the  easiest  of  them  all  to  fit  into 
place.  At  its  conclusion  we  were  favored  with  a  bit 
of  pleasantry  that  seems  significant.  My  husband  gave 
us  a  lift  whenever  he  could  spare  the  time ;  but  on  this 
occasion  a  woman  friend  was  sitting  with  us.  She  had 
written  about  two  thousand  words  of  copy,  when  the 
tenor  of  the  dictation  changed  suddenly  to  the  per 
sonal  vein. 

"Old  Mark  has  been  working  like  a  badger,  and  is 
pleased  with  the  story.  The  girls  and  friend  Ed  are 


THE  COMING  OF  "JAP  HERRON"         39 

going  as  well  as  Twain  ever  did  when  he  wielded  his 
own  pen.  When  Edwin  lights  up  a  fresh  smoke  and 
smiles,  I  know  that  all  is  well.  But  when  Lola  frowns 
and  Edwin  forgets  to  smoke,  look  out  for  leaks.  The 
story  has  sprung  and  therain  was  hesitthininspots." 
The  last  of  the  sentence  came  so  rapidly  that  none  of 
us  had  any  idea  what  it  meant,  or  that  it  meant  any 
thing  at  all.  Before  we  had  separated  it  into  the 
words,  "the  rain  washes  it  thin  in  spots,"  I  asked  that 
that  last  part  be  repeated.  Instead  we  got  the  words : 

"When  a  board  is  sprung,  it  lets  in  rain.  It  is  Emily 
who  has  to  hold  the  drip  pan  for  the  temperamental 
ones." 

"Thank  you  for  those  few  kind  words,  Mark,"  I 
said.  "But  if  you  think  enough  of  me  to  trust  me 
with  this  important  work,  why  do  you  single  me  out 
for  all  the  scoldings,  when  Edwin  and  Lola  sometimes 
deserve  at  least  a  share  in  your  displeasure?" 

"Whist,  Hannibal  girl,  we  know  our  office  force," 
was  the  humorous  rejoinder. 

The  appearance  of  Agnesia  was  one  of  the  keen  sur 
prises  of  the  story,  and  before  we  realized  what  Jap's 
little  sister  would  mean  to  Bloomtown,  Mark  inter 
rupted  his  dictation  with  the  words,  "Stop !  Girls,  the 
yarn  is  nearly  all  unwound.  We  will  skip  a  bit  that  we 
will  tie  in  later.  But  now — Bill  sat  doubled  over  the 
case,  the  stick  held  listlessly  in  his  hand.  Nervously  he 
fingered  the  copy,  not  knowing  what  he  was  reading." 


40         THE  COMING  OF  "JAP  HERRON" 

Without  a  break,  we  received  the  brief  final  chapter, 
ending  with  the  words,  "Isabel  wants  to  call  him 
Jasper  William."  The  planchette  added,  "The  End." 
We  transmitted  no  more  that  day,  although  we  knew 
that  our  story  was  far  from  completion. 

The  next  time  we  met  we  had  another  surprise  in 
the  coming  of  Jap's  elder  sister.  When  the  twenty-fifth 
chapter  was  finished,  Mark  said: 

"Girls,  I  think  the  story  is  done." 

"It's  pretty  short  for  a  book,"  I  protested.  By  way 
of  reply,  he  gave  this: 

"Did  you  ever  know  about  my  prize  joke?  One  day 
I  went  to  church,  heard  a  missionary  sermon,  was  car 
ried  away — to  the  extent  of  a  hundred  dollars.  The 
preacher  kept  talking.  I  reduced  my  ante  to  fifty 
dollars.  He  talked  on.  I  came  down  to  twenty-five, 
to  ten,  to  five,  and  after  he  had  said  all  that  he  had  in 
him,  I  stole  a  nickel  from  the  basket.  Reason  for  your 
selves.  Not  how  long  but  how  strong.  Yet  I  have  a 
sneaking  wish  to  tell  you  something  of  the  early  days  of 
Ellis's  work,  especially  about  Granger  and  Blanke. 
But  to-day  I  have  writer's  cramp.  So  let's  get  together 
soon  and  make  the  finish  complete." 

There  were  two  more  sessions,  with  the  dictation  of 
a  whole  chapter  and  several  fragments,  at  each  meet 
ing,  and  we  met  no  more  until  I  had  put  the  whole 
complex  record  into  consecutive  form.  We  had  a  final 
review  of  the  work,  and  a  few  minor  changes  in  words. 


THE  COMING  OF  "JAP  HERRON"         41 

and  phrases  were  made.  Mark  expressed  himself  as 
well  pleased,  and  as  a  little  farewell  he  gave  us  this, 
which  has  nothing  to  do  with  Jap  Herron: 

"There  will  be  a  great  understanding  some  day.  It 
will  come  when  the  earth  realizes  that  we  must  leave 
it,  to  live,  and  when  it  can  put  itself  in  touch  with  the 
heavens  that  surround  it.  I  have  met  a  number  of 
preachers  over  here  who  would  like  to  undo  many  things 
they  promulgated  while  they  had  a  whack  at  sinners. 

"There  are  hardshell  Baptists  who  have  a  happy 
time  meeting  their  members,  to  whom  they  preached  hell 
and  brimstone.  They  have  many  things  to  explain. 
There  is  one  melancholy  Presbyterian  who  frankly 
stated  the  fact — underscore  'fact' — that  there  were 
infants  in  hell  not  an  ell  long.  He  has  cleared  out 
quite  a  space  in  hell  since  he  woke  up.  He  doesn't  rush 
out  to  meet  his  congregation.  It  would  create  trouble 
and  be  embarrassing  if  they  looked  around  for  the  suf 
fering  infants.  As  I  said  before,  there  is  everything 
to  learn,  after  the  shackles  of  earth  are  thrown  aside. 
I  would  like  to  write  a  story  about  some  of  these 
preachers,  and  the  mistakes  they  made,  when  the  doc 
trines  of  brimstone  and  everlasting  punishment  were 
ladled  out  as  freely  to  the  little  maid  who  danced  as  to 
the  harlot.  It  showed  a  mind  asleep  to  the  undis 
covered  country." 

"Can  you  shed  any  light  on  that  undiscovered  coun 
try?"  I  asked  him. 


42        THE  COMING  OF  "JAP  HERRON" 

"Perhaps.  But  for  the  present  there  is  enough  of 
the  truth  of  life  and  death  in  'Jap  Herron'  to  hold 
you." 

And  with  that  he  told  us  good-bye. 

EMILY  GRANT  HUTCHINGS. 


JAP   HERRON 


CHAPTER    I 

As  every  well-bred  story  has  a  hero,  and  as  there 
seems  better  material  in  Jap  than  any  other  party  to 
this  story,  we  will  dignify  him.  Mary  Herron  feebly 
asserted  her  rights  in  the  children  by  naming  them 
respectively,  Fanny  Maud,  Jasper  James  and  Agnesia. 
Jasper  deteriorated.  He  became  Jap,  and  Jap  he  re 
mained,  despite  the  fact  that  Fanny  Maud  developed 
into  Fannye  Maude  and  Agnesia  changed  her  cogno 
men,  without  recourse  to  law,  to  Mabelle.  The  folks  in 
Happy  Hollow  continued  to  say  "Magnesia"  long  after 
she  left  its  fragrant  depths. 

The  father  of  the  little  Herrons  was  a  kingfisher. 
He  spent  his  hours  of  toil  on  the  river  bank  and  his 
hours  of  ease  in  Mike's  place.  One  Friday,  good  luck 
peered  through  the  dingy  windows  of  the  little  shanty 
where  the  Herrons  starved,  froze  or  sweltered.  It  was 
Friday,  as  I  remarked  before.  Mary  was  washing, 
against  difficulties.  It  had  rained  for  a  week.  The 
clothes  had  to  dry  before  Mary  could  cash  her  labor, 

43 


44  JAP  HERRON 

and  it  fretted  Jacky  Herron  sorely.  His  credit  had 
lost  caste  with  Mike,  and  Mike  had  the  grip  on  the 
town.  He  had  the  only  thirst  parlor  in  Happy  Hol 
low.  So  Jacky  smashed  the  only  remaining  window, 
broke  the  family  cup,  and  set  forth  defiantly  in  the 
rain.  And  in  the  fog  and  slashing  rain  he  lost  his 
footing,  and  fell  into  the  river.  As  it  was  Friday,  Mary 
had  hopefully  declared  that  luck  would  change — and  it 
did! 

The  town  buried  Jacky  and  moved  his  family  into 
decent  lodgings,  because  the  Town  Fathers  did  not 
want  to  contract  typhoid  in  ministering  to  them. 
Loosed  of  the  incubus  of  a  father,  the  little  family 
grew  in  grace.  Jappie,  as  his  baby  sister  called  him, 
was  the  problem.  Agnesia  was  pretty,  and  the  Mayor's 
wife  adopted  her.  Fanny  Maud  went  west  to  live  with 
her  aunt,  and  Jap  remained  with  his  mother  until  she, 
after  the  manner  of  womankind,  who  never  know  when 
they  have  had  luck,  married  another  bum  and  began 
supporting  him.  Jap  ran  away. 

He  was  twelve  years  old,  red-headed,  freckled  and 
lanky,  when  he  trailed  into  Bloomtown.  He  loafed 
along  the  main  street  until  he  reached  the  printing 
office,  and  there  he  stopped.  An  aphorism  of  his  late 
lamented  dad  occurred  to  him. 

"Ef  I  had  a  grain  of  gumption,"  said  dad,  during 
an  enforced  session  of  his  family's  society,  "I  would 
V  went  to  work  in  my  daddy's  printin'  office,  instid  of 


JAP  HERRON  45 

runnin'  away  when  I  was  ten  year  old.  I  might  'a'  had 
money,  aplenty,  'stid  of  bein'  cumbered  and  helt  down 
by  you  and  these  brats." 

Jap  straggled  irregularly  inside  and  heard  the  old 
Washington  hand  press  groan  and  grunt  its  weary  way 
through  the  weekly  edition  of  the  Herald.  After  the 
last  damp  sheet  had  been  detached  from  the  press,  and 
the  papers  were  being  folded  by  the  weary-eyed,  inky 
demon  who  had  manipulated  the  handle,  he  slouched 
forward. 

"Say,  Mister,"  he  asked  confidently,  "do  you  do  that 
every  day?"  indicating  the  press,  "  'cause  I'm  goin*  to 
work  for  you." 

The  editor,  pressman  and  janitor  looked  upon  him 
in  surprise  and  pity. 

"I  appreciate  your  ambition,"  he  said,  more  in 
sorrow  than  anger,  "but  I  have  become  so  attuned 
to  starving  alone  that  I  don't  think  I  could  adjust 
myself  to  the  shock  of  breaking  my  fast  on  you." 

Jap  was  unmoved. 

"My  dad  onct  thought  he'd  be  a  editor,  but  he  got 
married,"  he  said  calmly. 

"Sensible  dad,"  commented  the  editor,  with  more 
truth  than  he  dreamed.  "I  suppose  that  he  had  three 
meals  a  day,  and  a  change  of  socks  on  Sunday." 

"But  Ma  had  to  get  'em,"  argued  Jap.  "I  want 
to  be  a  editor,  and  I  am  agoin'  to  stay."  And  stay 
he  did. 


CHAPTER    H 

"RUN  out  and  get  a  box  of  sardines,"  ordered  the 
boss  of  the  Washington  press.  "I've  got  a  nickel. 
I  can't  let  you  starve.  I  lived  three  months  on  them — 
look  at  me !" 

Jap  surveyed  him  apprehensively. 

"I'd  hate  to  be  so  thin,"  he  complained,  "and  I  don't 
like  sardines  nor  any  fishes.  My  dad  fed  us  them  every 
day.  Allus  wanted  to  taste  doughnuts.  Can  I  buy 
them?" 

Ellis  Hinton  laughed  shortly,  and  spun  the  nickel 
across  the  imposing  stone.  Jap  caught  it  deftly.  An 
hour  later  he  appeared  for  work,  smiling  cheerfully. 

"Why  the  shiner?"  queried  Ellis,  indicating  a  badly 
swollen  and  rapidly  discoloring  eye. 

"Kid  called  me  red-top,"  said  Jap  bluntly. 

"Love  o'  gracious,"  Ellis  exclaimed,  "whu,t  is  the 
shade?" 

"It's  red,"  quoth  Jap,  "but  it  ain't  his  business.  If  I 
am  agoin'  to  be  a  editor,  nobody's  goin'  to  get  familiar 
with  me." 

This  was  Jap's  philosophy,  and  in  less  than  a  week 
he  had  mixed  with  every  youth  of  fighting  age  in  town. 

46 


JAP  HERRON  47 

The  office  took  on  metropolitan  airs  because  of  the 
rush  of  indignant  parents  who  thronged  its  portals. 
Ellis  pacified  some  of  the  mothers,  outtalked  part  of 
the  fathers  and  thrashed  the  remainder.  After  he  had 
mussed  the  outer  office  with  "Judge"  Bowers,  and  tipped 
the  case  over  with  the  final  effort  that  threw  him, 
Jap  said,  solemnly  surveying  the  wreck: 

"If  I  had  a  dad  like  you,  I'd  V  been  the  President 
some  day." 

Ellis  gazed  ruefully  into  the  mess  of  pi,  and  kicked 
absently  at  the  hell-box. 

"I'll  work  all  night,"  cried  Jap  eagerly.  "I'll  clean 
it  up." 

"We'll  have  plenty  of  time,"  said  Ellis  gloomily. 
"We  have  to  hit  the  road,  kid.  Judge  Bowers  owns 
the  place.  He  has  promised  to  set  us  out  before 
morning." 

But  luck  came  with  Jap.  It  was  Friday  again,  and 
Bowers's  wife  presented  him  with  twins,  his  mother-in- 
law  arrived,  and  his  uncle  inherited  a  farm.  There 
was  only  one  way  for  the  news  to  be  disseminated,  and 
he  came  in  with  his  truculent  son  and  helped  clean 
up,  so  that  the  Herald  could  be  issued  on  time.  More 
than  that,  he  made  the  boys  shake  hands,  and  con 
cluded  to  put  Bill  to  work  in  the  Herald  office.  After 
he  had  puffed  noisily  out,  Ellis  looked  whimsically 
at  Bill. 


48  JAP  HERRON 

"Are  you  going  to  board  yourself  out  of  what  I  am 
able  to  pay  you?"  he  asked. 

"Oh,  I  don't  reckon  Pappy  cares  about  that,"  the 
boy  said  cheerfully.  "He  just  wants  to  keep  me  out 
of  mischief,  and  he  said  that  lookin'  at  you  was  enough 
to  sober  a  sot." 

Months  dragged  by.  Bill  and  Jap  worked  more  or 
less  harmoniously.  Once  a  day  they  fought ;  but  it  was 
fast  becoming  a  mere  function,  kept  up  just  for  form. 
Ellis  was  doing  better.  He  had  set  up  housekeeping, 
since  Jap  came,  in  the  back  room  of  the  little  wooden 
structure  that  faced  the  Public  Square,  and  housewives 
sent  them  real  food  once  in  a  while. 

Once  Ellis  feared  that  Jap  was  going  to  quit  him  for 
the  Golden  Shore.  It  was  on  the  occasion  of  Myrtilla 
Botts's  wedding,  when  she  baked  the  cakes  herself,  for 
practice,  and  her  mother  thoughtfully  sent  most  of 
them  to  the  Editor,  to  insure  a  big  puff  for  Myrtilla. 
Ellis  was  afraid;  but  Jap,  with  the  enthusiasm  and  in 
experience  of  youth,  took  a  chance.  Bill  was  laid  up 
with  mumps,  or  the  danger  would  have  been  lessened. 
As  it  was,  it  took  all  the  doctors  in  town  to  keep  Jap 
alive  until  they  could  uncurl  him  and  straighten  out 
his  appendix,  which  appeared  to  be  cased  in  wedding 
cake.  This  experience  gave  Jap  an  added  distaste  for 
the  state  of  matrimony. 

"My  dad  allus  said  to  keep  away  from  marryin5," 


JAP  HERRON  49 

he  moaned.  "But  how'd  I  know  you'd  ketch  it  from 
the  eatin's  ?" 

The  subscription  list  grew  apace.  There  was  a 
load  of  section  ties,  two  bushel  of  turnips  and  six  pump 
kins  paid  in  November.  Bill  and  Jap  went  hunting 
once  a  week,  so  the  larder  grew  beyond  sardines.  Jap 
acquired  a  hatred  of  turnips  and  pumpkins  that  was 
in  after  years  almost  a  mania.  At  Christmas,  Kelly 
Jones  brought  in  a  barrel  of  sorghum,  "to  sweeten 
'em,"  he  guffawed.  Jap  had  grown  to  manhood  before 
he  wholly  forgave  that  pleasantry.  It  was  a  hard 
winter.  Everybody  said  so,  and  when  Jap  gazed  at 
Ellis  across  the  turnips  and  sorghum  of  those  weary 
months,  he  said  he  believed  it. 

"Shame  on  you,"  rebuked  Ellis,  gulping  his  turnips 
with  haste.  "Think  of  the  wretched  people  who  would 
be  glad  to  get  this  food." 

"Do  you  know  any  of  their  addresses?"  asked  Jap 
abruptly.  "Because  I  can't  imagine  anybody  happy 
on  turnips  and  sorghum.  I'd  be  willin'  to  trade  my 
wretched  for  theirn." 

Kelly  said  that  Jap  would  be  fat  as  butter  if  he  ate 
plenty  of  molasses,  and  this  helped  at  first ;  but  when 
the  grass  came,  he  begged  Ellis  to  cook  it  for  a  change. 

When  George  Thomas  came  in,  one  blustery  March 
day,  to  say  that  if  the  turnips  were  all  gone,  he  would 
bring  in  some  more,  Ellis  pied  Judge  Bowers's  speech 
on  the  duties  of  the  Village  Fathers  to  the  alleys,  when 


50  JAP  HERRON 

he  saw  the  malignant  look  that  Jap  cast  upon  the 
cheery  farmer. 

Once  a  week  Bill  and  Jap  drew  straws  to  determine 
which  one  should  fare  forth  in  quest  of  funds,  and  for 
the  first  time  in  his  brief  business  career,  Jap  was  glad 
the  depressing  task  had  fallen  to  him.  "Pi"  was  likely 
to  bring  on  an  acute  attack  of  mental  indigestion,  and 
the  boy  had  learned  to  dread  Ellis  Hinton's  infrequent 
but  illuminating  flame  of  wrath. 

The  catastrophe  had  been  blotted  out,  the  last 
stickful  of  type  had  been  set  and  Bill  had  gone  home 
to  supper  when  Jap,  leg-weary  and  discouraged,  wan 
dered  into  the  office.  Ellis  looked  up  from  the  form 
he  was  adjusting. 

"How  did  you  ever  pick  out  this  town?"  the  boy 
complained,  turning  the  result  of  his  day's  collection 
on  the  table. 

Ellis  turned  from  the  bit  of  pine  he  was  whittling,  a 
makeshift  depressingly  familiar  to  the  country  editor. 
He  scanned  the  meager  assortment  of  coins  with 
anxious  eye.  Jap's  lower  jaw  dropped. 

"I'll  have  to  fire  you  if  you  haven't  got  enough  to 
pay  for  the  paper." 

"Got  enough  for  that,"  said  Jap  mournfully,  "but 
not  enough  for  meat." 

"Didn't  Loghman  owe  for  his  ad?"  Ellis  demanded. 
"Did  you  ask  him  for  it?" 


JAP  HERRON  51 

"Says  you  owe  him  more  'n  he's  willin'  for  you  to 
owe,"  Jap  ventured. 

Ellis  sighed. 

"Meat's  not  healthy  this  damp  weather,"  he  sug 
gested.  "Cook  something  light." 

"It'll  be  darned  light,"  said  Jap.  "There's  one 
tater." 

"No  bread?"  asked  Ellis. 

"Give  that  scrap  to  the  cat,"  Jap  returned.  "Doc 
Hall  says  she's  done  eat  all  the  mice  in  town  and  if  we 
don't  feed  her  she'll  be  eatin'  off'n  the  subscribers." 

"Confound  Doc  Hall,"  stormed  Ellis.  "You  take 
your  orders  from  me.  That  bread,  stewed  with  potato, 
would  have  made  a  dandy  dish."  He  shook  the  form 
to  settle  it,  and  faced  Jap. 

"How  did  I  come  to  pick  this  place?"  he  said  slowly. 
"Well,  Jap,  it  was  the  dirtiest  deal  a  boy  ever  got.  I 
had  a  little  money  after  my  father  died.  I  wanted  to 
invest  it  in  a  newspaper,  somewhere  in  the  West,  where 
the  world  was  honest  and  young.  I  had  served  my 
apprenticeship  in  a  dingy,  narrow  little  New  England 
office,  and  I  thought  my  lifework  was  cut  out  for  me. 
I  had  big  dreams,  Jap.  I  saw  myself  a  power  in  my 
town.  With  straw  and  mud  I  wanted  to  build  a  town 
of  brick  and  stone.  Dreams,  dreams,  Jap,  dreams. 
Some  day  you  may  have  them,  too." 

He  let  his  lean  form  slowly  down  into  a  chair.     Jap 


52  JAP  HERRON 

braced  himself  against  the  table  as  the  narrative  con 
tinued  : 

"In  Hartford  I  met  Hallam,  the  man  who  started  the 
Bloomtown  Herald.  I  heard  his  flattering  version.  I 
inspected  his  subscription  list  and  studied  the  columns 
of  his  paper,  full  of  ads.  I  bought.  The  subs  were 
deadheads,  the  ads — gratuitous,  for  my  undoing.  It 
was  indeed  straw  and  mud,  and,  lad,  it  has  remained 
straw  and  mud."  He  leaned  his  head  on  his  hand  for  a 
moment. 

"That  was  the  year  after  you  were  born,  Jap.  I  was 
only  twenty-one.  For  a  year  I  was  hopeful;  then  I 
dragged  like  a  dead  dog.  You  will  be  surprised  when 
I  tell  you  what  brought  me  to  life  again.  I  tell  you 
this,  boy,  so  that  you  will  never  despise  Opportunity, 
though  she  may  wear  blue  calico,  as  mine  did. 

"It  was  one  dark,  cold  day.  No  human  face  had 
come  inside  the  office  for  a  week.  That  was  the  period 
of  my  life  when  I  learned  how  human  a  cat  can  be.  We 
were  starving,  the  cat  and  me,  with  the  advantage  in 
favor  of  the  cat.  She  could  eat  vermin.  I  sat  by  the 
table,  wondering  the  quickest  way  to  get  out  of  it.  Yes, 
Jap,  the  first  and,  God  help  me,  the  only  time  that  life 
was  worthless.  The  door  opened  and  a  plump  woman 
dressed  in  blue  calico,  a  sunbonnet  pushed  back  from 
her  smiling  face,  entered." 

To  Jap,  who  listened  with  his  heart  in  his  throat,  it 
seemed  that  Ellis  was  quoting  perhaps  a  page  from  the 


JAP  HERRON  53 

memoirs  he  had  written  for  the  benefit  of  his  townsmen. 
His  deep,  melodious  voice  fell  into  the  rhythmic  cadence 
of  a  reader,  as  he  continued: 

"  'Howdy,  Mr.  Editor,'  she  chirped.  'I've  been 
keenin'  for  a  long  time  to  come  in  to  see  you.  I  think 
you  are  aprintin'  the  finest  paper  I  ever  seen.  I 
brought  you  a  mess  of  sassage  and  a  passel  of  bones 
from  the  killin'.  It's  so  cold,  they'll  keep  a  spell.  And 
here's  a  dollar  for  next  year's  paper.  I  don't  want  to 
miss  a  number.  I  am  areadin'  it  over  and  over.  Seems 
like  you  are  agoin'  to  make  a  real  town  out  of  Bloom- 
town,'  and  with  a  friendly  pat  on  the  arm,  she  was 
gone." 

Ellis  brushed  the  long  hair  from  his  brow,  the 
strange  modulation  went  out  of  his  voice  and  the  fire 
returned  to  his  brown  eyes  as  he  said: 

"Jap,  I  got  up  from  that  table  and  fell  on  my  knees, 
and  right  there  I  determined  that  starvation  nor  cold 
nor  any  other  enemy  should  rout  me.  Jap,  I  am  going 
to  make  Bloomtown  a  real  town  yet.  My  boy,  that 
blue  calico  lady  was  Mrs.  Kelly  Jones." 


CHAPTER  III 

ELLIS  scowled  and  kicked  his  stool  absently  with  his 
heels. 

"Will  you  explain  where  the  colons  and  semicolons 
have  emigrated  to?"  he  asked  Bill,  with  suppressed 
wrath. 

"We  was  short  of  quads,  and  I  whittled  'em  off." 

Ellis  glared  at  Bill's  ingenuous  face. 

"And  what,  pray,  did  you  whittle  to  take  their 
place?" 

"Never  had  no  call  to  use  'em,"  muttered  Bill,  chew 
ing  up  the  item  he  had  just  disposed  of.  "I  can  say 
all  that  I  can  think  with  commas  and  periods." 

"Abraham  Lincoln  used  colons  and  semicolons,"  said 
Ellis,  shortly,  "and  I  am  setting  his  immortal  speech. 
What  am  I  going  to  do  about  it,  my  intelligent  co- 
printer?" 

Bill  coughed  violently  as  the  wad  of  paper  slipped 
down  his  throat. 

"Try  George  Washington,"  he  advised.  "They 
didn't  have  so  much  trimmin's  to  their  talk  them  days." 

Jap  shoved  a  chair  against  the  door  sill  and  flung 
the  door  ajar  to  cut  off  the  blast  of  hot  air  that  swept 
the  office. 

54 


JAP  HERRON  55 

"Gee-whiz !"  he  complained,  "I'm  chokin'  on  the  dust. 
However  did  they  get  'Bloomtown'  hitched  on  to  this 
patch  of  dirt?  There  ain't  a  flower  'in  a  mile,  'ceptin' 
the  half-dead  sprigs  the  wimmin  are  acoaxin'  against 
their  will." 

"When  I  came  here,"  said  Ellis,  "the  old  settlers  told 
me  that  whenever  I  wanted  information  I  should  hunt 
up  Kelly  Jones.  There  he  goes  now.  Call  him  in." 

But  Kelly  was  coming  anyway.  He  carried  a  mys 
terious  basket  and  his  sun-burned  face  was  full  of  sup 
pressed  excitement. 

"Wife  allowed  that  you  and  Jap  must  be  putty  nigh 
starved,"  he  chuckled,  shifting  the  quid  to  his  other 
cheek.  "I  reckon  she  knowed  that  Jap  done  the  cookin' 
Wednesdays  and  Thu'sdays." 

He  lifted  the  clean  white  towel  from  the  basket,  dis 
closing  a  pound  of  yellow  butter,  a  glass  of  jelly,  a  loaf 
of  bread  and  two  pies,  fairly  reeking  aroma. 

"Fu'st  blackberries,"  asserted  Kelly.  "I  ain't  had  a 
pie  myself  yet,  and  wife  forbid  me  to  take  a  bite  o' 
yourn." 

"God  bless  the  wife  of  our  countryman,  Kelly  Jones. 
May  her  shade  never  grow  less,"  said  Ellis  fervently, 
stowing  the  basket  away.  "If  Jap  and  Bill  stick  all 
the  matter  on  the  hooks  before  noon,  they  may  have 
pie.  Otherwise  the  Editor  of  the  Herald  exercises  his 
prerogative  and  eats  both  pies." 

"Kelly,"  asked  Jap  abruptly,  "why  did  they  call  this 


56  JAP  HERRON 

patch  of  dust  'Bloomtown'?  Did  they  ever  have  even 
peppergrass  growin'  along  its  edges?" 

Kelly  settled  himself  comfortably  in  Ellis's  chair  and 
draped  his  long  legs  over  the  exchanges.  Filling  his 
mouth  with  Granger  twist,  he  said: 

"  'Twa'n't  because  of  the  blooms.  Fact  is,  it  never 
was  'bloom'  in  the  fu'st  place.  Old  man  Blome  owned 
this  track  of  land — his  name  was  Jerusalem  Blome. 
Folks  used  to  say  Jerusalem  Blown.  Purty  nice  story 
there  is  about  this  town  and  Barton,  why  neither  of 
'em  has  got  a  railroad,  and  why  Barton  is  bigger  in 
money  and  sca'cer  in  folks." 

Ellis  put  his  stickful  of  type  on  the  case  resignedly. 
Bill  and  Jap  deposited  their  weary  frames  on  the  door 
step.  The  hot  wind  blew  in  their  faces,  laden  with  dust. 
The  smell  of  dried  grass  was  odorous. 

"Looks  like  it  mout  blow  up  a  rain,"  said  Kelly, 
sniffing  approvingly. 

"Well,  Kelly,"  declared  Ellis,  "you  have  tied  the 
wheels  of  this  machine.  Deliver  the  goods  you  prom 
ised.  We  are  not  interested  in  rain." 

"Humph!"  ruminated  Kelly,  "it  was  this-a-^ay:  Old 
man  Blome  bought  this  track  about  the  time  that  Luel- 
len  Barton  moved  to  her  plantation.  It  mout  'a'  been 
sooner;  I  ain't  sure.  Barton — leastways,  what  is  Bar 
ton  now — belonged  to  old  Simpson  Barton.  When  he 
went  south  and  married  a  rip-snortin'  widow,  he 
brought  his  wife  and  a  passel  o'  niggers  to  live  at  the 


JAP  HERRON  57 

old  home  place.  There  hadn't  never  been  no  niggers 
there,  along  of  the  fu'st  Mis'  Barton. 

"When  war  broke  out  the  niggers  run  away,  along 
of  Jerusalem  Blome,  that  got  up  a  nigger  regimint. 
After  the  war  there  was  talk  of  a  railroad.  It  would 
run  right  through  the  Blome  farm  and  cross  the  Barton 
place  crossways.  My  daddy  was  overseer  for  Mis' 
Barton.  Simp  didn't  have  nothin'  to  say  about  the 
runnin'  of  the  place.  I  was  a  tyke,  doin'  errands  for 
everybody,  and  I  hcerd  a  lot  o'  the  railroad  talk.  Old 
Blome  was  sellin'  his  farm  in  town  lots,  gettin'  ready 
for  the  boom — for  who  would  'a'  thought  that  Mis' 
Barton  would  turn  her  back  on  such  a  proposition? 

"You  see,  it  was  this-a-way:  Mis'  Luellen  was  allus 
speculatin'  in  niggers,  and  a  month  before  war  broke, 
she  had  bought  a  load  of  Guinea  niggers — the  kind  that 
looks  like  they  are  awearin'  bustles,  you  know.  Simp 
kinder  smelt  war,  but,  Lordee,  Luellen  wouldn't  be 
dictated  to !  And  she  went  broke,  flat  as  a  flitter.  All 
that  was  left  was  the  thousand  acres  of  Barton  land. 

"Railroad?  No,  siree!  She  heard  about  old  man 
Blome's  activity,  and  she  had  it  in  for  Blome.  She 
sat  up  and  primped  her  lips  when  Pee-Dee  Jones  come  in 
behalf  of  the  railroad.  That's  how  the  Barton  Joneses 
come  to  settle  in  this  neck  o'  the  woods.  Pee-Dee  Jones 
— no  kin  o'  mine — had  a  winnin'  way,  and  he  purty 
nigh  got  Mis'  Luellen's  name  on  the  paper,  when  he  let 
slip  that  he  intended  buildin'  a  town  on  her  land.  'Do 


58  JAP  HERRON 

you  think  that  I  am  agoin'  to  have  a  lot  of  blue-bellied 
Yankees  in  my  very  dooryard?'  she  yelled.  'You  are 
mistaken.'  And  so  she  stuck. 

"Afterwards  she  learned  that  Fee-Dee  Jones  had  fol- 
lered  Grant.  Whew !  She  nigh  busted  with  rage.  Mis' 
Luellen  allus  said  that  she  could  smell  a  Yankee  a  mile, 
and  as  she  didn't  like  the  smell,  she  cropped  the  rail 
road  boom.  It  went  five  mile  north  of  her  place,  and 
missed  Bloomtown  twenty  mile.  That's  why  the  two 
towns  are  just  livin'  along.  The  folks  that  bought  lots 
of  old  Blome  tried  to  get  another  railroad  to  come  their 
way.  That  was  when  the  Wabash  looked  like  it  was 
headed  for  my  farm;  but  I  reckon  that  opportunities 
like  that  don't  come  but  onct  in  a  lifetime. 

"I  wonder  that  Mis'  Luellen's  spook  don't  howl 
around  Barton  every  night,  for  Jones  bought  the  big 
house  after  she  died,  and  the  fambly  comes  back  there 
to  live  whenever  their  luck  goes  wrong.  Pee-Dee's  boy, 
Brons  Jones,  started  a  paper  there,  about  the  time  that 
Hallam  started  the  Bloomtown  Herald.  He  sold  out 
to  a  poor  devil  that's  racin'  to  see  if  he  can  starve 
quicker'n  Ellis.  Brons  ain't  been  around  these  parts, 
the  last  few  years,  but  he  owns  a  lot  o'  Barton  property 
that  he  thinks  '11  make  good  some  day." 

Kelly  aimed  a  clear  stream  of  tobacco  juice  at  the 
dingy  brown  cuspidor,  and  made  as  if  to  settle  himself 
for  further  narrative. 

"Jap,  Bill,  get  to  work,"  commanded  Ellis.     "And, 


JAP  HERRON  59 

Kelly,  much  as  I  appreciate  you  and  your  excellent 
wife,  I  must  dispense  with  your  society.  I  need  these 
boys." 

As  the  farmer  departed,  grinning  cheerfully,  Tom 
Granger  appeared  at  the  door  of  the  Herald  office. 
A  conference  of  prominent  citizens  had  been  summoned 
to  meet,  early  that  afternoon,  in  the  Granger  and  Har- 
low  bank,  a  somewhat  more  pretentious  building,  sep 
arated  from  the  Herald  office  by  a  narrow  alley;  and 
during  a  lull  in  the  morning's  business  Tom  was  serving 
himself  in  the  capacity  of  errand  boy.  From  his  place 
on  the  front  steps,  he  could  watch  for  the  possible  ad 
vent  of  depositor  or  daylight  robber,  there  being  no 
rear  door  to  the  bank. 

"You'll  be  on  hand,  Ellis,"  he  reminded.  "Couldn't 
have  any  kind  of  a  meeting  without  the  Herald,  you 
know.  We  won't  keep  you  long." 

But  the  session  was  more  important  than  the  banker 
had  anticipated.  Judge  Bowers  had  prepared  a 
lengthy  discourse,  and  others  had  opinions  that  needed 
ventilating.  Once  or  twice,  Ellis  was  irritated  by 
shrieks  of  laughter  that  emanated  from  the  office  across 
the  alley,  usually  in  Bill's  shrill  treble.  When  the  cause 
of  the  merriment  had  reached  an  exceptional  climax, 
the  Editor  pounced  upon  his  assistants,  wearing  the 
scowl  of  a  thunder  god.  Jap  and  Bill  got  up,  shame 
facedly,  as  he  demanded: 


60  JAP  HERRON 

"What  do  you  think  I  am  conducting  this  plant  for? 
A  circus  for  horse-play?" 

He  kicked  the  cat  loose  from  the  box  Jap  had  it 
hitched  to.  The  two  boys  looked  ruefully  at  their  over 
turned  cart. 

"There  goes  the  hell-box !"  Bill  screamed. 

Ellis  stared  at  him  in  transfixed  wrath. 

"Was  that  pi?"  he  demanded,  looking  down  the  hole 
in  the  floor  into  which  most  of  the  contents  of  the  box 
had  spilled. 

Bill  darted  into  the  back  room  and  sneaked  swiftly 
out  through  the  alley  door.  The  office  saw  him  no  more 
that  day.  With  such  tools  as  were  available,  Jap  set 
to  work  to  undo  the  mischief  he  had  wrought.  An 
hour  later,  he  replaced  the  plank  in  the  floor.  The 
rescued  type  was  piled  in  a  dirty  litter  of  refuse.  Ellis 
leaned  over  it,  attracted  by  a  gleam  that  shone  as  not 
even  new  type  could  glitter. 

"It's  a  ring,"  explained  Jap,  furtively.  "I  reckon 
you  won't  be  so  mad  now.  I  can  soak  it  when  we  get 
hungry.  I  soaked  my  ma's  ring,  lots  of  times." 

"Why,  you  young  reprobate !"  exclaimed  Ellis, 
"that  ring  is  not  yours,  or  mine.  We  will  advertise  it." 
He  smiled  in  Jap's  disappointed  face.  "It  looked  like 
a  beefsteak,  didn't  it,  boy?  Well,  virtue  is  its  own 
reward,  and  maybe  the  owner  will  pay  for  the  ad." 

But  she  did  not,  and  yet  the  kick  given  to  the  inof 
fensive  office  cat  had  effects  as  far-reaching  in  the 


JAP  HERRON  61 

result  to  Bloomtown  as  did  the  kick  of  the  famous 
Chicago  cow,  with  this  difference,  that  the  effects  were 
not  disastrous.  The  brief  ad  in  the  Herald  brought 
Flossy  Bowers  from  her  home  in  Barton  to  claim 
a  ring  she  had  lost  fifteen  years  before. 

"The  office  used  to  belong  to  Pap's  daddy,"  Bill  ex 
plained  to  Jap,  as  Ellis  and  Miss  Bowers  stood  chatting 
in  the  front  door.  "When  Grandpap  was  lawyerin',  he 
had  this  for  his  office,  and  Aunt  Flossy  lost  her  ring, 
scrubbin'  the  floor.  I  have  heard  tell  that  he  made  the 
wimmin  folks  curry  the  horses.  They  say  he  had  a 
big  funeral.  I  wonder —  "  Bill  spoke  wistfully,  "I  won 
der  if  I  have  any  kinfolks  on  the  man-side  that  love 
anybody  but  theirselves.  Flossy  didn't  get  to  go  off  to 
school  till  her  daddy  died.  She's  been  teachin',  up  to 
Barton,  since  my  pappy  married  this  last  time,  and  my 
stepmother  don't  like  her,  so  she  never  comes  home." 

Jap  and  Bill  noted  that  Ellis  found  frequent  busi 
ness  in  Barton,  and  despite  the  inhospitable  atmosphere 
of  the  substantial  Bowers  home,  across  the  little  park 
from  the  Herald  office,  Flossy  came  oftener  than  usual 
to  her  girlhood  town.  The  autumn,  the  winter  and  the 
spring  sped  by.  Ellis  Hinton  was  too  happy  to  scold, 
even  when  there  was  an  excess  of  horse-play.  In  the 
gladsome  June-tide  the  young  girls  of  Bloomtown 
stripped  their  mothers'  gardens  to  weave  garlands  for 
the  little  church,  and  Judge  Bowers  opened  his  heart 
and  his  house  for  the  wedding  reception. 


62  JAP  HERRON 

Flossy  had  a  dower  of  two  thousand  dollars,  besides 
the  cottage,  a  part  of  her  father's  patrimony,  on  one 
of  the  side  streets,  a  ten-minute  walk  from  the  office. 
In  her  trunk  were  stowed  away  the  yellow  linens  that 
should  have  served  her,  had  a  certain  college  friend 
proved  faithful,  and  the  wedding  presents  came  near  to 
doing  the  rest.  This  strange  turn  of  the  wheel  of  for 
tune  landed  Jap  Herron  in  his  first  real  home.  Flossy 
could  cook,  and  thank  the  kind  fates,  she  brought  some 
thing  to  cook  with  her.  Flossy  was  a  misnomer,  for  even 
in  her  salad  days,  she  had  never  been  the  least  bit 
"flossy,"  and  when  Ellis  bestowed  himself  upon  her  she 
had  well  turned  thirty. 

The  Judge  made  Ellis  a  present  of  the  office,  thereby 
relieving  him  of  the  haunting  fear  that  he  might,  at 
some  time,  demand  the  rent.  The  paper  put  on  a  new 
dress,  and  the  hell-box  was  dumped  full  of  the  dis 
carded,  mutilated  types  that  had  so  long  given  strabis 
mus  to  the  patient  readers  of  the  Bloomtown  Herald. 


CHAPTER  IV 

"TO-MORROW  is  Jap's  birthday,"  announced  Ellis, 
one  noontide  early  in  July.  "Jap,  you  are  a  joy- 
spoiler.  With  the  Fourth  yet  smoking  in  the  air,  we 
must  be  upset  by  your  birthday." 

"Dad  allus  cussed  that  day,"  remarked  Jap,  wiping 
the  blackberry  juice  from  his  freckled  face.  "Gee,  I 
never  guessed  that  there  was  such  grub  as  this,"  regret 
fully  gazing  at  the  generous  blackberry  cobbler — re 
gretfully,  because  his  exhausted  stomach  refused  to 
give  another  stitch. 

"Cussed  it?"  queried  Ellis,  who  was  beginning  to 
fat  up  a  bit. 

"He  said  that  I  was  the  first  nail  in  the  coffin  of  his 
troubles,"  replied  Jap  cheerfully. 

"How  dreadfully  inhuman,"  exclaimed  Flossy,  scrap 
ing 'the  scraps  to  the  chickens.  "Well,  Jappie,"  she 
bustled  back  to  the  dining-room  where  her  little  family 
lingered,  "we  are  going  to  begin  making  your  birthdays 
pleasant.  What  do  you  want  most?" 

She  had  her  mind's  eye  on  the  discarded  ties  of  gor 
geous  hue,  bought  while  Ellis  was  courting,  and  still 
brand  new. 

63 


64  JAP  HERRON 

"Ca-can  I  have  just  what  I  want?"  stuttered  Jap, 
excitedly. 

"Why,  certainly,  Jappie.  That  is,  if  we  can  afford 
it." 

"Well — well,"  floundered  Jap,  astounded  at  his  own 
temerity,  "I  allus  wanted  a  pair  of  knee  pants.  Ma 
thought  that  some  time  she  could  get  'em;  but  the 
folks  that  she  washed  for  allus  kept  giving  her  pants 
of  their  menfolks.  I  had  to  wear  'em.  Can  I  have 
knee  pants?" 

Flossy  stared  dazedly  after  Ellis,  whose  vision  of 
Jap  in  knee  trousers  was  most  unsettling.  Before  the 
momentous  request  had  been  granted,  he  was  already 
half  way  down  the  alley.  He  was  still  convulsed  with 
laughter  when  he  reached  the  side  door  of  the  Herald 
office.  But  his  mental  picture  paled  into  dull  common 
place,  by  comparison  with  the  reality  that  was  in  store 
for  him. 

Jap  bought  the  cherished  pants ! 

Bloomtown  had  seen  the  circus,  the  Methodist  church 
fire  and  Judge  Lester's  funeral,  the  greatest  in  the  his 
tory  of  the  county;  but  none  of  these  created  the  in 
terest  that  Jap  brought  out  when  he  traveled  the  length 
of  Spring  street,  rounded  the  corner  at  Blanke's  drug 
store  and  walked  solemnly  along  Main  street  to  the 
office. 

Ellis  was  looking  out  of  the  window  when  he  ap 
peared,  and  despite  his  effort  at  composure,  was  writh- 


JAP  HERRON  66 

ing  on  the  floor  in  agony  when  Jap  entered.  Bill  looked 
up,  as  the  vision  crossed  the  threshold,  and  he  involun 
tarily  swallowed  four  type  he  was  holding  in  his  lips 
while  he  adjusted  a  pied  stickful  of  "More  Anon's" 
communication  from  Pluffot.  Jap  was  so  interested 
in  himself  that  these  things  passed  him  by.  He  sat  sol 
emnly  on  his  stool  and  looked  vacantly  into  the  e-box. 
Poking  absently  among  the  dusty  types,  he  said,  with 
profound  solemnity: 

"Bill,  did  you  ever  want  anything  right  bad?" 

Bill  swallowed  the  last  type  with  difficulty.  It  was 
the  last  capital  Z,  and  they  were  getting  five  dollars 
for  the  announcement  of  Zachariah  Zigler's  daughter, 
Zella  Zena's  graduation  into  matrimony,  and  Bill  had 
been  picking  enough  Z's  out  of  the  "More  Anon"  to 
spell  it,  when  the  pi  happened.  His  mind  feebly  recog 
nized  the  calamity.  He  stared  at  the  apparition  before 
him,  too  stunned  by  the  catastrophe  to  apprehend  Jap's 
appearance  further.  Jap  pressed  him  for  reply. 

"Once,"  he  admitted  gloomily.  "I  wanted  to  eat 
musherroons." 

"Did  you  like  'em — when  you  got  them?"  asked  Jap 
wanly. 

"Naw!  Tasted  nasty.  Never  could  see  why  folks 
keened  after  'em." 

Jap  sighed. 

"I  allus  wanted  knee  pants,"  he  said  plaintively. 
"But  seems  like  I  wa'n't  made  for  that  kind  of  luxury. 


66  JAP  HERRON 

I  ain't  a  bit  happy,  like  I  thought.  Seems  kind  of 
indecent  to  show  your  legs,  when  you  never  done  it 
before." 

And  Jap  donned  his  long  trousers  again,  much  to 
the  relief  of  Bloomtown.  Ellis  afterward  declared  that 
the  three-and-a-half  feet  of  spindling  legs  that  dangled 
along  under  the  buckled  bands  of  those  short  trousers 
were  the  most  remarkable  things  he  had  ever  seen.  They 
resembled  nothing  more  than  the  legs  of  a  spring  lamb, 
cavorting  in  knee  pants,  in  the  butcher's  window. 

When  we  have  achieved  our  heart's  desire,  we  often 
taste  the  ashes  of  illusion. 

Jap  did  not  worry  further  about  his  appearance, 
but,  dressed  in  the  neat  jumpers  that  Flossy  provided, 
he  seemed  content.  The  memory  of  the  episode  was 
beginning  to  lose  some  of  its  sting  when  Dame  Fortune 
gave  a  mighty  turn  to  her  wheel.  He  was  in  the  alley 
with  Bill,  playing  marbles,  when  Wat  Harlow  came 
rushing  out. 

"Where  is  Ellis?"  he  gasped.     "There's  hell  afloat." 

"Ellis  and  Flossy  have  gone  to  Birdtown  to  stay  till 
Monday,"  vouchsafed  Bill.  "It's  goin'  to  be  big  doin's 
at  an  anniversary,  Sunday." 

"Good  God!"  cried  Wat,  "what  can  I  do?" 

Jap  arose  and  dusted  himself. 

"Is  it  a  dark  secret?"  he  inquired.  "Did  Ellis  owe 
you  a  bill?  Lordee,  man,  you  can  find  plenty  more  in 
your  fix.  Forget  it." 


JAP  HERRON  67 

Wat  continued  to  tear  up  and  down  the  narrow 
alley. 

"I'm  ruined,"  he  groaned.  "They've  got  an  infernal 
lie  out  about  me,  and  it's  going  to  kill  me  out." 

Jap   was   interested. 

"Maybe  I  know  what  Ellis  could  do,"  he  suggested. 

"I  am  running  for  the  Legislature  again,"  Wat  said, 
pacing  wildly  over  the  marbles.  "The  Morgan  crowd 
have  got  it  out  that  I  sold  myself  to  the  crowd  that  are 
trying  to  lobby  a  bill  for  a  big  appropriation  for  the 
State  University.  The  county  is  solid  against  it,  and 
they  will  vote  me  out  of  politics  forever." 

"What  could  Ellis  do?"  asked  Jap,  sympathetically. 

"I  thought  that  he  could  print  the  truth  in  handbills 
that  could  be  sent  out.  It  is  now  Friday,  and  Tuesday 
is  election  day.  There  will  be  no  chance  for  help  after 
Monday.  They  would  have  to  have  time  to  get  all  over 
the  county."  He  sat  down  and  wiped  his  forehead. 

"What  is  your  defense?"  asked  Jap  judicially. 

"They  said  that  I  was  in  the  headquarters  of  the 
University  gang — and  I  was,"  he  said  bitterly.  "They 
said  I  shook  hands  with  Barks — and  I  did.  They  said 
that  he  walked  with  me  down  the  steps,  with  his  arm 
around  my  shoulder — and  he  did." 

"Love  of  Mike !"  exploded  Bill,  "what  do  you  want 
to  talk  about  it  for,  then?" 

"The  University  headquarters  are  in  Bolton's  furni 
ture  store,"  explained  Wat.  "My — my  baby  died  last 


68  JAP  HERRON 

night,  and  I  went  there  for  her  little  coffin."  He  choked 
and  walked  over  to  the  gate.  After  a  moment  he  turned 
back.  "Barks  was  there.  When  he  found  why  I  came, 
he  walked  out  with  me.  He  put  his  arm  around  my 
shoulder.  He — he  was  telling  me  that  he  buried  his 
youngest,  a  few  weeks  ago.  And  now,  while  I  am  tied 
here,  and  the  time  is  so  short,  Ellis  is  gone.  And  I'll 
be  ruined !" 

He  leaned  heavily  on  the  rickety  gate.  Bill  wiped 
his  snub  nose,  openly,  but  Jap  straightened  up.  The 
fire  of  battle  was  in  his  eyes. 

"Come  inside,"  he  cried  valiantly.  "Ellis  is  gone, 
but  the  office  is  here.  Come  on,  Bill.  We  have  great 
things  to  do." 

All  night  long  the  two  boys  labored.  After  the  story 
was  in  type,  they  printed  it  on  the  Washington  press. 
It  was  Bill's  suggestion  that  brought  forth  a  can  of 
vermilion,  to  lend  color  to  the  heart  story.  Wat  was 
in  and  out  all  night,  but  there  was  no  "in  and  out"  for 
the  boys.  At  daybreak  they  flung  the  last  handbill 
upon  the  stack  of  bills  and  sank  exhausted  upon  them. 
Wat  carried  a  mail  pouch  full  of  them  to  the  stage 
that  started  on  its  daily  trip  to  Faber,  at  seven  o'clock, 
and  the  pathetic  story  saved  the  day  for  Legislator 
Harlow. 

"Boys,  I  will  never  forget  it,"  he  declared. 

Ellis  saw  one  of  the  badly  spelled,  ink-smeared 
agonies  on  Saturday  evening,  and  took  the  next  stage 


JAP  HERRON  69 

for  home,  wrathful  enough  to  thrash  both  boys.  They 
had  adorned  the  bill  with  the  cut  that  Ellis  had  had 
made  for  Johnson,  the  tombstone  cutter,  a  weeping 
angel  drooping  its  long  wings  over  a  stately  head-stone. 
A  rooster  and  two  prancing  stallions  at  the  bottom  pre 
saged  victory  for  the  vilified  Wat. 

It  was  midnight  when  Ellis  slammed  the  door  open. 
The  two  boys  were  asleep  in  the  midst  of  the  litter  of 
torn,  ink-gaumed  and  otherwise  spoiled  copies  of  that 
hideous  handbill.  The  last  pull  on  the  lever  of  the 
press  had  let  it  fly  back  too  quickly,  and  it  had  flapped 
its  handle  loose  and  lay  wrecked  on  the  floor.  The  of 
fice  had  the  appearance  of  a  battleground.  The  ink 
was  blood,  and  the  press  and  scattered  type,  casualties. 
He  stirred  the  boys  with  an  angry  kick.  Jap  sat  up 
and  peered  through  the  ink  over  his  eyes  at  his  angry 
employer. 

"We  fixed  him  solid,"  he  declared  jubilantly.  "There 
can't  nothing  beat  Wat  now.  We  opened  the  eyes 
of  the  county." 

"You  surely  did,"  groaned  Ellis.  "When  the  Press 
Association  add  to  their  Hall  of  Fame,  they  will  shroud 
me  in  the  folds  of  that  dad-blamed  bit  of  art !" 


CHAPTER  V 

JAP  came  running  into  the  office,  early  in  January, 
his  freckled  face  aglow,  his  red  hair  standing  wildly 
erect. 

"Golly  Haggins !"  he  exploded,  "I  got  a  letter  from 
Wat.  He's  up  at  the  Legislater  and  he  writes — he 
writes  this !"  He  fairly  lunged  the  letter  at  Ellis. 

Ellis  read,  scowling: 

"My  dear  young  Friend, — 

"I  am  at  the  Halls  of  Justice  and  I  want  to  fill  my 
promise  to  reward  you  for  the  noble  deed  you  done. 
There  is  a  chance  for  a  bright  boy  as  page,  and  I  have 
spoke  for  it  for  my  noble  boy.  Come  at  once.  Time 
and  tide  won't  wait,  and  there  is  thirty  other  boys 
camped  on  the  trail, 

"Respectfully  your  Friend, 

"WAT  HARLOW." 

"Whoopee!"  yelled  Bill,  jumping  from  his  stool  and 
turning  a  handspring  across  the  office. 

"Reckon  I'd  better  ask  Flossy  to  fix  my  things — get 
my  clothes  out?"  asked  Jap,  beaming  radiantly  over 

70 


JAP  HERRON  71 

the   big  barrel   stove.      He   started   toward   the  door. 

"Stop!"  said  Ellis,  in  a  voice  Jap  had  never 
heard.  "You  are  not  going." 

"Not  going?"  echoed  both  boys  hollowly. 

"No!"  almost  shouted  Ellis,  his  brown  eyes  flashing. 
"I  might  have  expected  this  from  that  wooden-headed 
son  of  a  lost  art.  Do  you  think  that  you  are  going  to 
leave  my  office  to  lick  the  boots  of  that  loafing  gang 
of  pie-biters  ?  Not  in  a  thousand  years !  I  am  going 
to  put  a  tuck  in  that  idea  right  now.  And  while  I'm 
talking  about  it,  you  may  as  well  know  that  Flossy  is 
getting  ready  to  teach  you  how  to  'read  and  write  and 
'rithmetic,'  as  Bill  says.  And  as  for  you,  Bill,  Flossy 
says  that  if  your  father  hasn't  enough  pride  to  do  the 
right  thing  by  you,  she'll  give  you  an  education,  along 
with  Jap.  You  begin  your  lessons  to-morrow  evening. 

"Jap,  write  to  that  reformed  auctioneer  and  thank 
him  for  his  favor.  Tell  him  that  you  belong  to  the 
ancient  and  honorable  order  of  printers.  When  he 
runs  for  governor,  you  will  boom  him.  Till  then, 
nothing  doing  in  the  'Halls  of  Justice.' ': 

Jap  sulked  all  day,  but  he  wrote  the  letter  whose 
contents  might  have  changed  his  career,  and  the  fol 
lowing  evening  he  and  Bill  began  the  schooling  that 
Flossy  had  planned.  It  was  a  full  winter  for  the  boys, 
the  most  important  of  their  lives.  Even  when  spring 
came,  with  its  yawns  and  its  drowsy  fever,  they  begged 


72  JAP  HERRON 

that  the  lessons  continue.  Already  the  effect  was  be 
ginning  to  show  in  the  galley  proof. 

One  morning  in  July,  Jap  had  held  down  the  office 
alone.  Flossy  was  not  well,  and  Ellis  spent  as  much 
time  with  her  as  possible.  Bill  blustered  in,  a  look  of 
disgust  in  his  brown  eyes. 

"Ain't  nothin'  doin'  in  town,  'cept  at  Summers's,"  he 
exploded,  luxuriating  in  the  kind  of  speech  that  was 
tabooed  in  the  presence  of  his  elders.  "Only  ad  I  could 
scare  up  was  at  Summers's,  and  Ellis  don't  want  that." 

Jap  looked  from  the  door,  beyond  the  little  village 
park  and  the  hotel,  to  where  the  dingy  white  face  of 
the  saloon  stared  impudently  upon  the  town. 

"I  never  see  one  of  them  places  without  scringin'," 
he  said  slowly.  "My  pappy  almost  lived  in  one.  When 
we  were  cold,  he  was  warm.  When  Ma  and  us  children 
were  hungry,  the  saloon  fed  him,  because — because  he 
could  be  so  amusing  and  entertaining  when  he  was  half 
drunk.  Ma  said  that  my  pappy's  folks  were  quality, 
but  they  didn't  have  any  time  for  him. 

"I  used  to  creep  around  to  the  side  winder  to  see 
what  kind  of  a  drunk  he  had.  If  it  was  a  mean  one, 
I'd  run  home  and  sneak  Aggie  out  and  hide.  He  had 
a  spite  agin  us  two,  and  when  he  had  a  mean  drunk  he 
used  to  beat  us.  He  was  skeered  to  tetch  Fanny  Maud. 
She  had  the  wild-cattest  temper  you  ever  saw.  He  tried 
to  pull  her  out  of  bed  by  her  hair  one  night,  and  she 
jumped  on  him  and  scratched  his  face  like  a  map.  Ma 


JAP  HERRON  73 

had  to  drag  her  off,  and  if  he  hadn't  run,  Fanny  would 
V  got  him  again.  After  that  he  would  brag  what  a 
fine  girl  she  was.  One  night  Aggie  and  me  hid  in  a 
straw  stack  all  night." 

Bill  looked  sorrowfully  upon  his  friend. 

"I  thought  I  was  the  most  forsakenest  boy  in  the 
world,"  he  said.  "But  my  father  never  beat  me,  and 
he  never  touches  no  kind  of  licker.  He  just  don't  b'ke 
me  around.  You  know  my  mother  died  when  I  was 
born,  and  somehow  he  seems  to  blame  it  on  me.  I  don't 
know  how  to  figger  it,  for  he  married  in  a  year,  and 
when  that  one  died  it  didn't  take  him  no  time  to  start 
lookin'  out  again.  He  hardly  ever  speaks  to  me,  'cept 
to  cuss  me  or  tell  me  what  a  nuisance  I  am.  Allus 
makes  me  feel  like  a  cabbage  worm." 

"Cabbage  worm?"  queried  Jap. 

"Yes,  they  turn  green  when  they  eat,  and  I  feel  like 
I  am  green,  every  bite  I  take.  He  looks  at  me  so  mean, 
like  he  thought  I  hadn't  any  right  to  eat.  That's  why 
I  eat  at  Flossy's,  every  time  she  asks  me.  The  only 
nice  thing  my  pappy  ever  done  for  me  was  to  put  me  in 
here  with  Ellis.  Jap,"  he  broke  off  suddenly,  "I'm  durn 
glad  you  licked  me,  that  day.  But  your  hair  was  red !" 

Ellis  had  come  quietly  in  at  the  rear  door  and  had 
listened,  half  consciously,  to  the  sacred  confession.  His 
face  saddened  for  a  moment.  Then  he  squared  his 
shoulders  and  his  dark  eyes  flashed. 


74  JAP  HERRON 

"I  am  going  to  make  men  of  those  boys  yet,"  he 
promised  himself.  "Who  knows " 

He  interrupted  the  spasm  of  painful  speculation,  the 
dark  foreboding  that  had  for  days  hovered  over  him. 
The  heat  of  summer  and  his  anxiety  over  Flossy  were 
beginning  to  tell  on  his  nerves.  He  tiptoed  softly  out 
of  the  back  door,  across  the  weed-grown  yard  and  out 
through  the  alley  gate.  A  moment  later  he  came  in  at 
the  front  door,  whistling  blithely. 

The  summer  was  intensely  hot.  As  the  dog-days 
waxed,  Ellis  grew  ever  more  and  more  morose.  His 
sharp  bursts  of  temper  were  made  tolerable  only  by 
the  swift  justice  of  the  amend.  Late  in  September  he 
came  down  to  the  office  one  morning,  pale  and  shaken. 
The  boys  had  been  sticking  type  for  an  hour  when  his 
sudden  entrance  startled  them. 

"Flossy  is  very  sick,"  he  said  with  lips  that  quivered, 
"and  I  will  have  to  trust  you  boys." 

Jap  followed  him  to  the  door.  His  face  was  down 
cast. 

"Is  it  true,  Ellis?  Bill  said  that  Flossy  would— 

would "  He  gulped.  He  could  not  finish.  Ellis 

turned  suddenly  and  sat  down  at  the  table  and  buried 
his  face  in  the  pile  of  exchanges.  His  body  shook  with 
the  effort  to  suppress  his  emotion.  Bill  slipped  down 
from  his  stool  and  the  two  awkward,  ungainly  youths 
looked  at  each  other  in  embarrassed  sorrow.  Finally 
Jap  laid  an  inky  hand  on  Ellis's  shoulder. 


JAP  HERRON  75 


"Tell  her— tell  her,"  he  stuttered,  "that  Bill  and  me 
are — are  a — prayin'." 

Ellis  gave  a  mighty  sob  and  rushed  away,  bare 
headed. 

The  two  apprentices  sat  at  their  cases,  the  tears  wet 
ting  the  type  in  their  sticks.  The  long  day  dragged 
by.  Neither  of  them  remembered  noon,  but  plodded 
stolidly  and  silently  through  the  clippings  on  their 
copy  hooks. 

It  was  growing  dusk  when  a  great  commotion  arose. 
It  seemed  to  come  from  the  corner  near  Blanke's  drug 
store.  It  gathered  force  as  it  neared  Granger's  bank. 
Now  it  had  reached  the  mouth  of  the  alley  that  sep 
arated  the  bank  from  the  Herald  office.  There  was 
cheering  and  laughter.  Jap's  face  hardened.  He  slung 
one  leg  to  the  floor.  How  dared  any  one  cheer  or 
laugh,  when  Flossy  lay  dying? 

In  another  instant  Ellis  burst  into  the  room.  His 
dark  locks  were  rumpled,  his  eyes  wild  and  bright. 

"Get  out  all  the  roosters — and  the  stallions,  too!" 
he  shouted.  "Open  a  can  of  vermilion  and,  in  long 
pica,  double-lead  it :  'It  is  a  boy !' ': 

Jap  let  the  other  leg  fall  and  dragged  himself  around. 
His  mouth  had  fallen  loose  on  its  hinges.  He  sat  down 
on  the  floor  and  gaped  foolishly  at  Ellis. 

"She's  feeling  fine,"  babbled  EUis,  "and  you  and  Bill 
are  coming  in  the  morning  to  see  the  boy."  He  rushed 
out  again. 


fT6  JAP  HERRON 

Jap  looked  at  Bill,  glued  to  the  stool,  holding  in  one 
paralyzed  hand  the  inverted  stick. 

"Gee!"  said  Jap. 

In  the  morning  they  tiptoed  into  Flossy's  room. 
Very  pale  and  weak  was  the  energetic  little  woman  who 
had  taken  the  moulding  of  their  destinies  into  her 
hands.  She  smiled  gently  and,  as  mothers  have  done 
since  time  was,  she  tenderly  drew  back  the  covers  from 
a  tiny  black  head  and  motioned  for  the  two  to  look. 

"Our  boy,"  she  said,  smiling  radiantly.  "I  am  going 
to  name  him  Jasper  William,  and  I  want  you  to  make 
him  very  proud  of  the  men  he  was  named  for." 

The  hot  tears  sprang  to  Jap's  eyes  and  fell  upon  the 
little  red  face.  The  wee  mite,  perhaps  prompted  by  an 
angel  whisper  from  the  land  from  whence  he  came, 
threw  aloft  one  wrinkled  hand  and  touched  him  on  the 
cheek.  Sobbing  stormily,  Jap  hid  his  face  in  the  covers 
as  he  knelt  beside  the  bed.  Then  he  took  the  little 
fingers  in  his. 

"If  God  lets  me  live,  Flossy,  I  will  make  him  proud 
of  me." 

He  choked  and  dashed  outside  to  join  Bill,  who  was 
snubbing  audibly  on  the  back  steps.  After  a  muffled 
silence  he  said,  his  eyes  growing  suddenly  bright: 

"Bill,  did  you  notice  what  Flossy  said?  She  said 
the  men'  that  he  was  named  after.  Bill,  we've  got  to 
quit  kiddin'  and  begin  to  grow  up." 


CHAPTER  VI 

TIME  passed,  after  the  easy-going  manner  of  Bloom- 
town.  Jap  was  sixteen,  long,  ungainly  and  stooped 
from  bending  over  the  case.  Bill,  a  little  older  in 
months,  but  possessed  of  immortal  youth,  was  stocky 
and  rather  good  looking.  Four  years  of  daily  inter 
course  had  wrought  a  subtle  change  in  their  relations, 
four  years  of  the  stern  and  the  sweet  that  Ellis  and 
Flossy  Hinton  had  brought,  for  the  first  time,  into  their 
lives. 

Bill  was  at  the  table,  the  exchanges  pushed  back  in 
a  disorderly  heap,  as  he  surreptitiously  figured  a  tough 
problem  in  bookkeeping  that  Flossy  had  given  him. 
Jap,  with  furtive  air,  bolted  the  history  lesson  that 
ought  to  have  been  learned  the  day  before.  Ellis,  his 
back  to  the  one  big  window  in  the  office,  scowled  over 
the  proofs  he  was  rattling.  From  time  to  time  he  pep 
pered  the  air  with  remarks  that  fell  like  bird  shot  on 
the  tough  oblivion  of  his  two  assistants.  At  length  for 
bearance  gave  way  under  the  strain,  and  he  said,  in  cold 
and  measured  tones: 

"When  you  are  unable  to  decipher  the  idea  I  am 
trying  to  convey,  I  wish  that  you  would  take  me  into 
your  confidence." 

77 


78  JAP  HERRON 

Bill  looked  up,  a  grin  on  his  round,  shining  face,  a 
grin  that  was  fixed  to  immobility  by  the  fierceness  of 
Ellis's  glance. 

"I  note  that  you  have  injected  much  native  humor 
into  perfectly  legitimate  prose,"  the  stern  voice  con 
tinued.  He  read: 

"  'Jim  Blanke  has  a  splendid  assortment  of  Sundays.' 
Now  please  explain.  You  are  causing  the  good  folks 
of  this  town  unnecessary  worry.  My  copy  reads,  'sun 
dries.'  " 

"Jap  done  it,"  vouchsafed  Bill. 

"Who  done  this?"  Ellis  stressed  the  verbal  blunder 
witheringly,  as  he  pointed  his  pencil  at  the  next  item. 
It  read: 

"Ross  Hawkins  soled  twenty-five  yearling  calves." 

"It  looked  that  way,"  argued  Jap. 

"A  devil  of  a  couple  you  are,"  declared  Ellis  wrath- 
fully.  "Can't  either  of  you  reason?  Did  you  ever 
hear  of  any  one  soling  a  yearling  calf?  Ross  Hawkins 
is  an  auctioneer,  not  a  shoemaker." 

The  boys  looked  sheepishly  at  each  other.  Suddenly 
Bill  flung  himself  on  his  stomach  and  howled  in  glee. 

"Lordee!  What  if  that  had  V  got  in  the  paper!" 
he  gasped. 

"There  would  be  two  fine,  large,  lazy  boys  out  of  a 
job,"  Ellis  said  severely. 

He  threw  aside  the  copy  and  lifted  the  type.     Jap 


JAP  HERRON  79 

followed  the  movement  with  anxious  eye.  Another  ex 
plosion  hung,  tense  and  imminent,  in  the  air. 

"Have  you  washed  that  type  yet,  Bill?"  he  asked, 
eager  to  placate  Ellis. 

It  was  the  custom  for  the  boy  nearest  the  door  to 
disappear  when  the  time  for  washing  a  form  was  at 
hand. 

"It  was  your  job,"  protested  Bill.  "You  promised 
to  wash  Wat  Harlow's  speech  if  I  cleaned  Kelly  Jones's 
stock  bill." 

Ellis  sat  down  wearily. 

"Oh,  we're  agoing  to  do  it  all,  this  evening,"  cried 
Bill,  defiantly.  "You  promised  that  we  could  clean 
out  that  box  of  cuts.  You  promised  a  long  time  ago." 

"Go  to  it,"  said  Ellis,  his  voice  relaxing,  and  the  two 
boys  bolted  into  the  back  room.  A  little  later  he 
joined  them.  Jap  and  Bill  sat  on  the  floor,  blowing 
the  dust  from  a  lot  of  dirty  old  woodcuts. 

"I  bought  them  with  the  job,"  he  said,  turning  the 
pile  over  with  his  foot.  He  sat  down  on  the  emptied 
box  and  watched  them  as  they  examined  the  cuts. 

"What  is  this?"  asked  Jap,  peering  at  the  largest 
block  in  the  lot. 

"That  is  a  cut  of  the  town,  as  it  was  when  I  came 
here,"  said  Ellis,  a  shadow  of  reminiscence  crossing  his 
face,  as  he  took  the  block  in  his  long  fingers. 

Bill  drew  himself  to  his  knees  and  looked  at  the  maze 


80  JAP  HERRON 

of  lines  and  depressions  curiously.  The  picture  was  as 
strange  to  him  as  it  was  to  Jap.  Ellis  continued: 

"There  were  three  business  houses  here,  besides  the 
blacksmith  shop  and  the  saloon.  Here  they  are.  Ezra 
Bowers,  Bill's  grandfather,  with  the  help  of  his  three 
sons,  ran  a  general  store  where  they  sold  everything 
from  castor  oil  to  mowing  machines.  Phineas  Blome — • 
an  unmistakable  son  of  old  Jerusalem — sold  clothing 
and  more  castor  oil  and  mowing  machines.  There 
wasn't  such  a  thing  as  a  butcher  shop  in  Bloomtown. 
When  the  natives  wanted  fresh  meat,  they  ordered  it 
brought  out  on  the  hack.  In  other  parts  of  the  world, 
that  institution  is  sometimes  called  a  stage ;  but  here  I 
learned  that  its  right  name  is  'hack.'  The  southern 
terminus  of  the  Bloomtown,  Barton  and  Faber  hack- 
line,  that  has  done  its  best  for  thirty  years  to  prevent 
us  from  being  entirely  marooned,  was  over  there  at  the 
south  side  of  Blome's  Park,  exactly  as  it  is  to-day. 
The  hotel  didn't  have  a  bit  more  paint,  the  first  night 
I  slept  in  it,  than  it  has  now." 

"Flossy  said  that  weathered  shingles  were  fashion 
able,"  Bill  grinned,  taking  up  another  cut.  "Here's 
the  Public  Square — you  call  it  Blome's  Park,  but  I 
never  heard  anybody  else  call  it  that,"  he  added,  his 
voice  lifting  in  a  note  of  query.  "That's  the  Square, 
all  right,  and  the  Town  Hall,  with  'leven  horses  hitched 
in  front  of  it." 

"Yes,  when  old  man  Blome  laid  out  his  farm  in  town 


JAP  HERRON  81 

lots,  he  reserved  his  woods  pasture  for  a  city  park. 
You  never  heard  of  an  orthodox  town  that  didn't  begin 
with  a  Public  Square,  and  that  little  rocky  glade  with 
the  wet-weather  spring  had  the  only  trees  within  ten 
miles  of  here.  It  wasn't  fit  for  farming,  so  Blome 
argued  that  nobody  would  buy  it  with  a  view  to  raising 
garden  track.  But  your  foxy  Uncle  Blome  didn't  sac 
rifice  anything  by  his  generosity  to  the  town  that  was 
about  to  be  born.  He  reserved  the  lots  facing  the  park 
on  three  sides,  and  held  them  at  an  exorbitant  figure — 
as  much  as  five  dollars  a  front  foot,  I  should  say. 

"The  lots  at  the  north  and  east  were  to  be  sold  for 
high-class  residences  only.  Those  at  the  west  were 
reserved  for  business  houses.  Behold  the  embryo  Main 
street !  Overlooking  the  park  at  the  south  was  Blome's 
farm  house,  since  metamorphosed  into  a  tavern  and 
barns  for  the  stage  horses.  The  last  of  the  Blomes 
shook  the  dust  of  Bloomtown  from  his  feet  when  Carter 
bought  his  interest  in  the  hack  line.  Bill's  grandfather 
had  a  farm  adjoining  Blome's  land  at  the  west;  but 
Ezra  Bowers,  merchant  prince  and  attorney-at-law," 
he  said  whimsically,  "had  to  have  a  residence  in  the 
fashionable  quarter,  fronting  the  park.  A  little  patch 
of  the  old  farm  is  quite  good  enough  for  Mr.  and  Mrs. 
Ellis  Hinton  and  their  two  sons,  Jap  and  Jasper  Wil 
liam." 

Jap  caught  Ellis's  hand,  a  lump  arising  in  his  throat. 
Bill  relieved  the  momentary  tension  by  turning  over 


82  JAP  HERRON 

another  cut.  A  familiar  face  looked  out  at  him  from 
the  grime  of  years.  Ellis  glanced  at  it  and  smiled. 

"It  is  a  great  thing,  Jap,  the  birth  of  a  town.  Bloom- 
town  was  really  never  born.  The  stork  dropped  her 
when  he  was  traveling  for  a  friendly  haven.  For  ten 
years  she  lay,  just  as  she  fell,  without  visible  signs  of 
life.  About  twenty  families  existed,  somehow.  They 
had  pigs,  chickens  and  garden  truck,  and  to  all  intents 
they  would  go  on  existing  till  the  last  trump. 

"One  day  I  went  out  into  the  country  to  attend  a 
sale.  Boys,  I  was  never  so  well  pleased  with  a  day's 
work  as  I  was  with  that  day's  jaunt.  I  heard  the  most 
masterly  bit  of  eloquence  that  ever  came  from  the  lips 
of  an  auctioneer.  The  man  had  the  crowd  hypnotized. 
He  even  sold  me  an  accordion,  a  thing  I  was  born  to 
hate.  The  fact  that  it  was  wind-broken  and  rattly 
never  occurred  to  me  until  I  woke  up,  after  he  had  done. 
Then  I  went  to  him  and  said: 

"  'You  an  auctioneer !  You  should  be  in  the  Halls 
of  Justice,  telling  the  people  how  to  interpret  their 
laws.' 

"The  idea  struck  him.  He  came  into  town  with  me 
and  we  talked  the  matter  over.  He  was  easily  the  best 
known  and  most  liked  man  in  the  county.  It  was  then 
that  the  political  bug  stung  our  good  friend,  Wat  Har- 
low.  Wat  moved  his  family  to  town  and  soon  he  had 
a  decent  habitation.  He  stimulated  a  rain  of  paint 
and  a  hail  of  shingle  nails.  He  prodded  the  older  in- 


JAP  HERRON  83 

habitants  to  an  era  of  wooden  pavements  and  stone 
crossings.  Bill's  grandfather  objected,  because  he 
said  it  cut  down  the  sale  of  rubber  hip-boots  ;  but  Wat's 
eloquence  was  the  key  to  fit  anything  that  tried  to  lock 
the  wheels  of  progress.  He  did  more  than  that.  He 
brought  Jim  Blanke  from  Leesburg  to  start  a  decent 
drug  store. 

"After  that  he  robbed  Barton  of  Tom  Granger,  and 
together  they  started  the  first  bank  of  Bloomtown. 
Granger's  wife  and  baby,  with  Wat's  wife,  were  the 
civilization.  Mrs.  Granger  was  almost  an  invalid,  even 
then,  but  she  gathered  the  women  together  and  formed 
an  aid  society.  She  begged  and  cajoled  Bowers  out  of 
enough  money  to  build  a  little  church  on  the  lot  that 
Blome  had  donated.  I  joined  the  church,  for  the  moral 
example.  I  don't  remember  what  denomination  it  was 
supposed  to  be.  We  had  services  once  a  month;  but 
Mrs.  Granger  was  the  real  power  in  the  town.  She 
introduced  boiled  shirts  and  neckties.  Tom  bought 
the  big  patch  of  ground,  north  of  the  park,  and  set  out 
those  elm  trees  before  his  foundation  was  in.  Then 
Jim  Blanke  got  Otto  Kraus  to  come  here  and  start  a 
private  school.  Otto  played  the  little  cabinet  organ 
in  church,  and  taught  all  the  children  music,  after 
school  hours.  Thus  was  Bloomtown  born.  Wat  Har- 
low  made  the  blood  circulate  in  her  moribund  veins." 

Jap  looked  into  Ellis's  face,  his  freckled  cheeks  glow 
ing. 


84  JAP  HERRON 

"That's  not  what  Wat  Harlow  said,"  he  declared 
breathlessly. 

"What  did  he  say?"  asked  Ellis  sharply. 

"Why — why,"  gulped  Jap,  "he  said  that  Bloomtown 
was  dead  as  a  herring,  and  too  no-account  to  be  buried, 
till  Ellis  Hinton  came  and  jerked  her  out  of  the  mud 
and  started  her  to  breathe." 

Ellis  got  up  and  dusted  his  trousers. 

"As  I  said  before,  Wat  was  an  eloquent  auctioneer. 
Talk  is  his  trade,  and  he  keeps  in  practice.  Dilute  his 
enthusiasm  one-half,  Jap.  And  now,  get  to  work,  wash 
ing  up." 

As  he  left  the  office  he  encountered  a  group  of  tit 
tering  girls,  in  front  of  the  bank.  They  scattered  when 
they  perceived  that  Ellis  and  not  Bill  had  come  forth. 
Bill  was  the  lion  of  the  town.  Already  the  girls  had 
begun  to  come  after  papa's  paper,  on  publishing  day, 
which  upset  the  machinery  of  the  office,  never  too  de 
pendable. 

One  Thursday  when  the  air  was  full  of  snow,  the  little 
office  registered  its  capacity  crowd.  Ellis  was  at  home 
with  a  heavy  cold,  and  Jap  and  Bill  were  getting  out 
the  paper.  The  ink  congealed  on  the  rollers  and  needed 
constant  warming  to  lubricate  the  items  reposing  on 
the  bosom  of  the  Washington  press.  This  warming 
was  Bill's  job,  and  Jap  was  exasperated  to  fighting 
pitch  by  the  dilatory  method  of  Bill's  peregrinations 


JAP  HERRON  85 

around  the  circle  of  rosy-faced  girls,  hanging  admir 
ingly  on  his  efforts. 

"Chase  those  girls  out,"  he  growled.  "No  use  for 
them  to  hang  around.  We  won't  get  this  paper  out  in 
a  week  if  they  stick  around  after  you." 

"Old  Crabby !"  sniffed  one  of  the  girls.  "You're  just 
mad  because  nobody  wants  to  hang  after  you." 

"Jap  is  particular,"  chaffed  Bill,  half  apologetically. 
Since  they  had  assumed  the  responsibility  for  the  right 
uplift  of  Flossy's  boy,  there  had  been  growing  a  new, 
shy  pride  in  themselves.  "Better  wait  and  come  back 
in  the  morning,"  he  suggested. 

The  girls  filed  slowly  out.  As  they  passed  the  table, 
where  Jap  was  piling  the  papers  to  fold,  Isabel 
Granger,  doubtless  inspired  by  the  demon  of  mischief, 
leaned  forward  suddenly  and  kissed  him  full  on  the 
mouth.  Then  she  fled,  shrieking  with  glee.  Jap  stood  as 
if  stricken  to  stone.  Bill  looked  at  him  in  fright.  There 
was  no  color  in  his  freckled  face.  His  gray  eyes  were 
staring,  as  if  some  wonderful  vision  had  blasted  his  sight. 

"Gee,  Jap,"  said  Bill  uneasily,  "are  you  sick?" 

Jap  aroused  himself  and  turned  toward  the  press. 

"No,"  he  said  slowly,  "but  I  don't  like  for  folks  to 
be  familiar  like  that.  If  I  wanted  to  be  a  fool  like 

you "  He  stopped  and  stared  a  moment  from  the 

window. 

"The  next  time  she  kisses  me,"  he  said  shortly,  "she 
will  mean  it." 


CHAPTER  VII 

WHAT  a  wonderful  thing  is  a  baby !  Babies  were  not 
new  to  either  Bill  or  Jap.  In  Bill's  memory  lingered 
the  shrill  duet  of  his  twin  half-sisters,  a  continuous 
performance  that  had  lasted  more  than  a  year.  And 
Jap  had  never  fully  corrected  a  lurch  to  the  left  side, 
due  to  carrying  his  sister,  Agnesia,  when  he  was  little 
more  than  a  baby  himself.  Yet  the  little  visitor  from 
the  Land  of  Yesterday  was  a  never  failing  miracle  to 
them.  His  cry  filled  them  with  fear  for  his  well-being, 
and  his  laugh  intoxicated  them  with  its  glee. 

"Wait  till  he  can  talk,"  smiled  Flossy.  "Then  you 
will  see  how  wise  he  is." 

In  her  heart  she  was  beginning  to  combat  the  fear 
that  he  would  never  talk.  Other  children  of  his  age 
were  already  chattering  like  magpies. 

"Ma  said  that  I  said  'papa'  when  I  was  eight  months 
old,"  declared  Jap.  "But  I  don't  know  why  I  should 
'a'  said  that." 

Bill  grinned  fatuously  as  the  baby  pulled  at  his  hair. 

"Bill  won't  get  his  hair  cut,"  said  Jap.  "He  knows 
that  J.  W.  would  hang  after  me,  if  it  wasn't  for  his 
curly  hair." 


JAP  HERRON  87 

The  little  fellow,  who  for  obvious  reasons  could  be 
neither  Jasper  nor  William,  had  learned  to  respond 
with  amiable  toleration  to  the  soothing  abbreviation, 
"J.  W."  Kicking  his  stubby  legs  gleefully,  he  tangled 
his  fingers  more  mercilessly  in  Bill's  brown  locks. 
Flossy  loosed  the  fingers  gently,  as  she  cooed : 

"Naughty,  naughty !     Mamma  said  baby  mustn't." 

Flinging  his  fingers  aloft  in  protest,  he  gurgled: 

"Ja— Bi!" 

Flossy's  eyes  shone  with  sudden  joy.  It  was  her 
son's  first  attempt  at  articulate  speech.  The  boys 
lunged  forward  with  one  impulse. 

"He  said  'Jappie,'  "  Jap  cried,  his  chest  swelling 
with  the  importance  of  it.  Bill  glared. 

"Why,  Jap !"  Pain  and  indignation  were  in  his  tone. 
"He  tried  to  say  'Bill.'  " 

Flossy  smiled  on  them  both.  It  was  a  wonderful  little 
kingdom,  of  which  she  had  assumed  the  place  of  abso 
lute  monarch,  a  monarch  so  gentle  and  so  just  that 
her  sway  was  never  questioned. 

"Ellis  puts  in  half  his  time  trying  to  teach  baby  to 
say  the  two  names  all  in  one  mouthful,  so  that  you  boys 
won't  fight  about  his  first  word,"  she  vouchsafed.  "It 
would  have  to  be  either  Jap  or  Bill,  because  you  never 
tell  him  anything  but  your  names." 

When  they  waved  their  caps  in  farewell,  they  were 
still  discussing  the  mooted  question  vehemently.  Was 
it  "Jappie,"  or  a  combination  of  Jap  and  Bill?  To 


88  JAP  HERRON 

both  of  them  the  question  was  vital.  Jap  had  the  bet 
ter  of  the  argument,  when  Bill  blurted: 

"Anyhow,  he's  my  cousin,  and  he  ain't  no  relation  of 
yours."  Then  he  remembered  that  significant  remark 
of  Ellis's :  "A  little  patch  of  the  old  farm  is  quite  good 
enough  for  Mr.  and  Mrs.  Ellis  Hinton  and  their  two 
sons,  Jap  and  Jasper  William,"  and  he  was  silent  the 
rest  of  the  way  back  to  the  office. 

Little  J.  W.  was  three  years  old  before  he  could 
speak  distinctly.  The  child  was  born  with  other  af 
flictions  than  the  serious  impediment  to  his  speech,  and 
the  four  who  hung  with  anguished  love  on  his  every 
gesture  were  never  free  from  a  certain  unnamed  anxiety. 
He  loved  Bill,  but  he  worshipped  Jap.  Both  were  his 
willing  slaves. 

One  rainy,  dismal  night  in  early  fall,  when  Bill's  step 
mother  lay  seriously  ill,  Flossy  left  her  baby  to  the  care 
of  the  small  but  usually  capable  maid  who  assisted  her 
with  the  work  of  the  cottage,  while  she  and  Ellis  went 
to  the  home  of  Judge  Bowers  to  relieve  the  trained 
nurse  who  had  come  up  from  the  city.  At  the  supper 
table,  Ellis  had  remarked  that  Jap  and  Bill  would  be 
working  late  that  night,  in  order  to  get  out  a  job  that 
had  come  in  when  all  the  resources  of  the  office  were 
needed  for  the  weekly  edition  of  the  Herald.  He  had 
added  that  he  would  go  over  and  help  them,  if  his  pres 
ence  could  be  spared  from  the  sick-room. 

The  remark  must  have  lodged  in  the  baby's  mind, 


JAP  HERRON  89 

for  he  slipped  out  of  bed,  while  the  maid  was  employed 
in  the  kitchen,  and  toddled  through  the  cold  rain  almost 
all  the  way  to  Main  street.  Jim  Blanke  found  him  ly 
ing  exhausted  in  the  road,  a  little  way  from  the  drug 
store,  the  rain  beating  pitilessly  on  his  unconscious 
head  and  his  scantily  clad  body. 

After  a  night  of  anxious  care,  the  little  fellow  re 
lapsed  into  a  state  of  coma,  and  lay  for  hours,  white 
and  still,  save  for  the  rasping  of  his  breath.  The  of 
fice  was  closed.  Both  boys,  frantic  with  fear,  stood 
with  Ellis  as  the  child  lay  in  his  mother's  arms,  the 
four  dreading  that  each  hoarse  breath  would  be  his 
last.  Flossy  sat  erect  in  the  wide  rocking  chair,  her 
brave  eyes  watching  every  sigh  that  tore  the  little  bosom. 
Dr.  Hall,  whose  dictum  was  life  and  death,  was  silent. 
And  this  silence  was  the  last  straw  for  Jap.  He  crept 
nearer.  In  fear,  he  turned  from  the  face  of  the  be 
loved  sufferer.  Ellis  caught  the  look  in  the  boy's  an 
guished  eyes,  and  a  spasm  crossed  his  tightly  com 
pressed  lips.  The  physician  rallied  himself  from  the 
torpor  of  despair  that  had  laid  hold  on  him. 

"Try  to  arouse  him,"  he  commanded.  "Try  again." 
The  resources  of  his  experience  and  his  prescription 
blank  had  long  since  been  exhausted. 

Flossy  bent  over  her  child  and  called  softly: 

"Baby,  dearest,  mamma  loves  you.  Won't  you 
speak?" 

Ellis  leaned  forward.    His  face  blanched.    The  rasp- 


90  JAP  HERRON 

ing  had  ceased!  Jap  caught  the  look  of  horror,  and 
dragged  himself  up  to  look  into  the  baby's  face. 

"He  isn't  dead!  He's  all  right!"  he  shrieked,  not 
knowing  that  he  spoke.  "He's  still  breathing.  I  can 
hear  him."  His  hands  grasped  the  cold  body  and 
lifted  it,  unconscious  of  the  thing  he  was  doing. 

"Oh,  J.  W.!  Oh,  J.  W.!"  he  screamed,  "don't  go 
away  from  us !" 

He  pressed  the  child  to  his  breast  convulsively,  and 
the  miracle  happened.  The  solemn  black  eyes  opened 
and  a  husky  voice  said,  "Jappie." 

After  the  excitement  was  over,  and  the  exhausted 
mother  slept  beside  her  sleeping  child,  Bill  said  humbly: 

"He  did  say  'Jap'  first." 

"But  he  tried  to  say  'Bill,'  too,"  Jap  said  loyally. 

The  next  morning,  when  the  office  had  resumed  its 
normal  routine,  a  routine  that  was  destined  to  be  only 
partially  interrupted  by  the  death  of  Bill's  second  step 
mother,  a  few  days  later,  Ellis  called  Jap  into  the  little 
back  room  where,  in  the  dismal  days  before  Flossy's 
coming,  they  had  performed  all  the  functions  of  house 
keeping.  He  closed  the  door,  as  he  laid  his  hand  on 
Jap's  shoulders. 

"You  saved  J.  W.'s  life,"  he  said  solemnly.  "Doc 
Hall  said  that  you  stopped  him,  on  the  threshold,  when 
you  gave  that  dreadful  cry." 

The  baby  did  not  rally,  and  Ellis  worried  about  this 
incessantly.  One  day,  some  weeks  after  another  mound 


JAP  HERRON  91 

had  been  added  to  the  group  in  Judge  Bowers's  family 
lot,  and  Bill  had  gone  with  his  father  to  appraise  the 
merits  of  a  prospective  housekeeper  from  Birdtown, 
Ellis  looked  up  from  the  proof  he  was  correcting.  Jap 
noted  the  anxiety  in  his  face,  and  the  gray  eyes,  that 
could  so  often  render  speech  unnecessary,  put  the  ques 
tion.  Ellis  sighed. 

"He's  not  getting  along  the  way  he  ought  to,"  he 
mused.  "Doc  Hall  prescribed  a  tonic  for  him  a  month 
ago ;  but  it  doesn't  seem  to  take  hold.  He  has  no 
constitution  to  begin  with.  His  father,  exhausted  by 
privation  and  ill-health,  has  handicapped  him  in  the 
start. 

"Jap,"  he  said,  as  he  arose  and  laid  one  arm  con 
fidingly  around  the  boy's  shoulder,  "you  must  remem 
ber  that,  in  the  years  to  come.  I  didn't  give  the  baby 
a  fair  chance.  He  may  need  all  the  help  he  can  get 
to  carry  him  through.  If  you  should  live  longer  than 
I,  you  must  be  his  father  and  big  brother,  both." 

Jap's  gray  eyes  opened  in  astonishment.  The  idea 
that  there  could  ever  be  a  time  when  Ellis  would  not 
be  there  had  never  entered  his  mind.  He  looked  into 
the  dark,  thin  face  with  its  pallor  and  its  unnaturally 
bright  eyes,  and  a  joyous  smile  took  the  place  of  the 
momentary  shock. 

"Doc  Hall  said  that  you  had  grit  enough  to  outlive 
any  disease  that  ever  lurked  in  the  brush  of  Bloom- 
town,"  he  declared  eagerly. 


92  JAP  HERRON 

"Doc  Hall  is  an  optimist,"  Ellis  laughed  hollowly. 
"I'm  not  so  much  concerned  for  myself  as  for  the  boy 
and  his  mother.  You  know  what  J.  W.  means  to  her." 

"Bill  and  I  have  already  talked  it  over,"  Jap  re 
turned.  "We're  going  to  be  big  brothers  to  J.  W. 
We're  going  to  take  turns  at  taking  him  for  long  rides 
on  Judge  Bowers's  old  horse,  Jeremiah.  Doc  Hall  said 
that  long,  jolty  rides  would  set  him  up,  rosy  and  fat, 
in  a  little  while.  Bill  told  me  this  morning  that  he 
had  J.  W.  weighed  again,  on  Hollins's  scales,  and  he  has 
gained  three  pounds." 

Ellis  Hinton's  face  cleared.  There  was  a  new  elas 
ticity  in  his  step  as  he  crossed  the  room  and  laid  the 
copy  down  on  the  case.  Unconsciously  he  began  to 
whistle,  as  he  clicked  the  type  in  the  stick. 


CHAPTER  VIH 

FLOSSY  came  into  the  office,  leading  the  boy  by  the 
hand,  and  called  Ellis  aside.  Old  Jeremiah  had  done 
wonders  for  the  little  fellow;  but  on  Flossy  Hinton's 
face  there  was  a  look  that  boded  ill  to  some  one. 

"I  sent  for  Brother  William  to  meet  me  here,"  she 
said  crisply.  "I  want  you  to  back  up  all  that  I  say." 

Before  Ellis  had  breathed  twice,  she  was  out  looking 
up  the  street,  and  in  less  time  than  you  could  think 
it  out,  she  was  back,  towing  the  Judge,  who  puffed  ex 
plosively.  Ellis  and  the  three  boys  had  retreated  to  the 
rear  office. 

"There  is  not  a  bit  of  use  to  argue,  William,"  she 
said,  her  lips  in  a  hard,  straight  line.  "Ellis  has  done 
more  than  any  one  else  in  town  could  do.  When  I  heard 
that  you  had  subscribed  five  thousand  dollars  to  the 
new  church,  I  concluded  that  your  charity  was  a  little 
far  fetched.  Now  I  want  you  to  subscribe  five  thou 
sand  dollars  to  the  institution  that  is  making  a  man  of 
your  son.  I  want  five  thousand  dollars  for  the  printing 
office.  It  is  too  small,  and  the  press  is  out  of  date.  We 
need  all  that  goes  into  an  up-to-date  printing  office." 

Her  brother  looked  upon  her  tolerantly. 

93 


94  JAP  HERRON 

"Keep  it  up,  Floss.  It  never  fazed  you  to  ask  favors, 
and  you  ain't  run  down  yet." 

"It's  a  shame,"  she  stormed.  "Just  look  at  this  little 
shed!  Why,  even  a  cross-road  blacksmith  shop  is 
better." 

He  looked  around  appraisingly. 

"I  reckon  it'll  house  all  Ellis's  business,"  he  com 
mented. 

"Ellis,"  she  flashed,  "tell  William  about  the  rail 
road." 

Ellis  came  from  the  inside  office.  He  generally  with 
drew  from  the  conferences  between  Flossy  and  her 
brother. 

"Wat  Harlow  told  me  that  two  of  the  big  railroad 
systems  have  entered  into  a  joint  arrangement  to  short 
en  their  mileage,  on  through  trains  to  the  West.  He's 
got  it  all  fixed  for  the  new  track  to  pass  through 
Bloomtown.  It  will  give  us  all  the  benefit  of  two  rail 
roads." 

"You  see,"  said  Flossy  triumphantly,  "the  town 
will  boom.  People  will  move  in,  and  a  first-class  news 
paper  will  be  the  greatest  asset." 

"I  think  that  the  town  will  take  a  big  start,"  assured 
Ellis.  "The  boys  will  have  all  they  can  do  with  job 
work,  and  the  office  is  small  for  our  present  needs." 

"Pap,  you  should  watch  us  carving  letters  when  we 
get  short,"  interposed  Bill.  "Last  week  Jap  had  to 
carve  three  A's  for  Allen's  handbill.  There  are  only 


JAP  HERRON  95 

three  of  'em  in  that  case,  and  Allen  wanted  to  use  six. 
His  name  is  Pawhattan  Abram  Allen,  and  he  wanted 
the  whole  blamed  thing  spelled  out  in  caps.  I  told  Jap 
it  was  lucky  Allen's  folks  didn't  name  him  Aaron,  on 
top  of  all  the  rest." 

"That's  good  practice  for  you  boys,"  the  Judge 
snorted.  "I'm  mighty  glad  you  learned  something  for 
all  the  money  I  spent  on  you."  He  glanced  at  his  sis 
ter  witheringly ;  but  Flossy  had  her  eyes  fixed  on  her 
husband. 

"I  wish,"  Ellis  stirred  himself  to  say,  "that  the  town 
would  boom  enough  to  take  all  these  frame  shacks  off 
of  Main  street,  so  that  the  place  wouldn't  look  like  a 
settlement  of  campers." 

"A  good  fire  would  help,"  commented  Bill  boldly. 

Judge  Bowers  looked  over  his  glasses  at  his  son. 

"Well,  when  the  railroad  comes,  and  the  rest  of  the 
shacks  are  moved  out,  I  will  write  you  a  check  for  five 
thousand  dollars,"  he  snorted,  turning  his  rotund  form 
out  of  the  door. 

Flossy  picked  up  the  boy  and  flounced  out,  in  speech 
less  indignation.  By  argument  and  cajolery  she  had 
succeeded  in  getting  six  months  apiece  for  Bill  and  Jap 
at  the  School  of  Journalism,  and  at  twenty  the  boys 
were  far  more  expert  than  Ellis  was  when  he  began  the 
publication  of  the  Herald.  She  had  set  her  heart  on 
the  new  printing  office,  and  her  eyes  were  abrim  with 
tears  as  she  stumbled  home. 


96  JAP  HERRON 

The  week  wore  on  until  printing  day.  It  was  a  day 
of  unimagined  exasperations.  Everything  went  wrong. 
Ellis's  usually  smooth  temper  bent  under  the  stormy 
comments  of  the  boys,  and  in  the  late  afternoon  he 
developed  a  violent  headache  and  went  home.  Things 
continued  to  pile  up  until  it  was  evident  that  the  boys 
would  have  to  print  the  paper  after  dark. 

It  was  ten  o'clock  when  they  finished.  Jap  followed 
Bill  to  the  pavement,  pausing  to  lock  the  door  and  slip 
the  key  in  his  pocket.  The  town  was  asleep.  Not  a 
soul  was  to  be  seen  on  Main  street.  Bill,  who  usually 
took  the  short  cut  across  the  Public  Square  to  his 
father's  house,  turned  with  Jap  and  walked  along  Main 
street  to  the  farther  end  of  the  block.  At  Blanke's 
drug  store,  he  turned  into  Spring  street.  He  was  say 
ing,  in  a  tone  of  mixed  penitence  and  anxiety : 

"I  wish  we  hadn't  riled  Ellis  so,  to-day.  I  don't 
like  those  headaches  he's  having  so  often,  and  the  way 
his  face  gets  red  every  afternoon.  If  he  ever  sneaked 
out  and  took  a  drink — But  I  know  he  never  does." 

"Oh,  Ellis  is  all  right,  now  that  little  J.  W.  is  get 
ting  strong,"  Jap  insisted. 

They  had  gone  some  distance  in  the  direction  of 
Flossy's  cottage,  when  Bill  looked  across  an  expanse 
of  vacant  lots  to  where  a  dim  light  burned  in  the  loft 
of  Bolton's  barn. 

"They're  running  a  poker  game,"  said  Bill  wisely. 

Almost  before  the  words  were  gone,  a  wild  shriek  rent 


JAP  HERRON  97 

the  air.  A  flash  of  light  from  the  barn  loft,  a  scram 
bling  of  feet,  and  a  succession  of  dark  objects  cata 
pulted  the  ooze  of  the  barnyard,  and  it  was  all  ablaze. 
A  stiff  breeze  was  blowing  from  the  southwest.  Bill 
ran  to  the  mill  to  set  the  fire  whistle,  and  Jap  scrambled 
through  a  window  of  the  Methodist  church  and  began 
to  fling  the  chimes  abroad,  so  that  he  who  slept  might 
know  that  there  was  a  fire  in  town.  There  had  been 
no  rain  for  weeks,  and  the  frame  structures  were  ripe 
for  burning. 

In  less  than  half  an  hour  the  row  of  stores  on  Main 
street,  in  the  block  below  the  Herald  office,  began  to 
smoke.  From  Hollins's  grocery  store  a  brand  was  car 
ried  by  the  wind  and  lodged  among  the  dry  shingles  of 
Summers's  saloon.  The  excitement  was  augmented,  a 
few  minutes  later,  by  a  series  of  pyrotechnic  explosions. 
Bucket  brigades  were  formed,  the  firemen  mostly  in 
undress  uniform. 

Jap  and  Bill  were  in  their  glory.  Jap  was  mounted 
on  top  of  the  Town  Hall,  directing  operations.  Right 
down  the  row  rushed  the  flames,  eating  up  the  town. 
As  if  in  parting  salutation,  the  fiery  monster  leaped 
across  a  vacant  lot,  thick  set  with  dried  weeds,  and 
clutched  with  heat-red  claws  at  the  Herald  office. 

"This  way,  men!"  yelled  Jap.  "You  have  to  get 
the  press  and  enough  type  out  to  tell  about  the  fire." 

Ellis  was  staring  hopelessly  at  the  flame  that  was 
licking  at  the  rear  of  the  office.  The  water  was  ex- 


98  JAP  HERRON 

hausted  from  the  town  well,  and  there  was  no  hope  of 
saving  the  plant.  But  youth  is  omniscient,  and  the 
townsmen  followed  the  wildly  yelling  apprentices  and 
hastened  to  demolish  the  office  and  drag  away  the 
debris,  some  of  it  already  blazing.  From  the  salvage 
rescued  from  Price's  hardware  store,  and  heaped  in 
a  disorderly  pile  in  the  Public  Square,  Jap  handed  out 
the  latest  thing  in  fire  fighting  apparatus.  The  flimsy 
structure,  that  had  been  Ellis  Hinton's  stronghold  for 
almost  twenty  years,  gave  way  to  an  assault  with  axes, 
and  the  contents,  pretty  well  scattered,  were  left  stand 
ing.  It  was  nothing  that  Granger  and  Harlow's  bank 
went  down  with  little  left  to  show  its  location  save 
the  fire-proof  vault,  and  that  only  a  shift  in  the  wind 
prevented  the  flames  from  crossing  to  the  fashionable 
residence  section  east  of  Main  street. 

In  the  morning  the  Herald  force  began  business  in 
the  ruins  of  its  time-worn  shelter,  and  set  up  gory  ac 
counts  of  the  fire,  on  brown  manila  paper  with  ver 
milion  and  black  ink.  A  crowd  assembled  to  watch 
the  exciting  spectacle. 

"What's  the  use  of  a  railroad  now?"  bleated  Judge 
Bowers.  "There  ain't  no  town  to  run  it  through." 

"Why  ain't  there?"  asked  Jap  sharply. 

"Why,  all  the  folks  are  talking  of  pulling  up  stakes 
and  moving  to  Barton." 

"Well,  if  that  is  the  kind  of  backbone  they  have  been 
backing  this  town  with,"  snapped  the  youth,  his  red 


JAP  HERRON  99 

hair  standing  erect,  "you  help  them  move,  and  the 
Herald  will  show  them  up  for  quitters — and  fill  the 
town  with  real  men." 

And  being  full  of  wrath,  he  proceeded  to  incorporate 
this  thought  in  the  half  column  he  was  setting  up.  The 
paper  was  eagerly  snapped  up  by  the  crowd. 

"Who  wrote  this?"  fairly  howled  Tom  Granger.  "I 
want  to  hold  his  grimy  hand  and  help  him  shout  for 
a  bigger  and  better  town." 

Ellis  shoved  Jap  forward. 

"Here  is  the  fire-eater,"  he  announced.  Jap  flushed 
through  the  dirt  on  his  face. 

"It's  true,"  he  said,  half  shyly.  "There's  no  good 
in  a  quitter.  The  best  thing  is  to  smoke  them  out  and 
get  live  men  to  take  their  places." 

"Bravely  said,"  shouted  Granger.  "The  bank  will 
rebuild  with  brick.  Who  else  builds  on  Main  street?" 

Before  the  end  of  the  following  week  the  town  was 
humming  with  industry.  Every  hack  brought  its  con 
tingent  of  insurance  adjusters,  and  merchants  elbowed 
contractors  in  the  little  telegraph  office,  in  endeavors  to 
get  supplies.  On  Thursday  a  curious  crowd  stood 
watching  Ellis  and  the  boys  run  the  blistered  but  still 
faithful  Washington  press  in  the  boiling  sun. 

"Goin'  to  get  winter  after  a  while,  Jap,"  shouted  one 
of  the  bystanders.  "You'll  have  to  wear  ear  muffs  to 
get  out  your  paper." 


100  JAP  HERRON 

Jap  grinned  and  swung  the  lever  around  method 
ically. 

"What  are  you  going  to  do,  Ellis?"  asked  the  hon 
orable  member  from  the  "Halls  of  Justice,"  who  had 
hurried  to  his  little  home  town  in  her  hour  of  trouble. 
"There  ain't  a  vacant  shack  in  town.  It  seems  a 
darned  shame  that  you'll  have  to  give  up,  after  starv 
ing  with  the  town  till  it  gets  its  toes  set  in  gravel  at 
last.  Now  that  the  railroad  is  running  this  way  like  a 
scared  wolf,  the  town  needs  a  paper  worse  than  ever." 

"Who  said  they  was  going  to  quit?"  demanded  Judge 
Bowers  pugnaciously.  "They  ain't!  Ellis  is  goin'  to 
have  a  two-story  brick,  with  a  printin'  press  that  runs 
itself.  This  here  town  ain't  no  quitter."  He  glared 
fiercely  at  Harlow. 

Jap  lingered  with  Ellis  until  the  last  of  the  day's 
work  was  finished.  As  he  started  for  home  he  came 
upon  an  animated  group,  in  the  shade  of  the  half- 
burned  drug  store.  Behind  a  pile  of  wreckage,  Bill  was 
holding  court.  Jap  stopped  short.  Bill  was  telling  a 
lurid  tale  of  superhuman  strength  and  dare-devil 
bravery,  of  which  Jap  Herron  was  the  hero,  a  tale  that 
grew  with  every  telling.  A  wave  of  embarrassment 
swept  over  Jap.  As  he  turned  hastily  away,  he  felt  a 
soft  clutch  on  his  arm.  He  looked  back.  Two  spar 
kling  black  eyes  were  looking  up  into  his. 

"I  think  that  you  are  the  bravest  boy  in  the  world," 


JAP  HERRON  101 

whispered  Isabel  Granger,  "and — and  I  am  glad  I 
kissed  you  that  time." 

Jap  stared  at  her,  stunned  by  a  new  emotion.  In 
another  moment  she  was  gone,  flying  across  the  street 
in  the  direction  of  her  home. 

"Anybody  but  Jap  would  'a  took  her  up  on  that," 
insinuated  Bill,  who  had  heard  Isabel's  last  words. 

Jap  turned  a  murderous  look  upon  him.  The  crowd 
of  girls  tittered  as  they  dispersed.  When  supper  was 
over  Jap  returned  to  the  spot,  and  long  after  dark  he 
sat  upon  the  pile  of  wreckage,  thinking  long,  long 
thoughts. 


CHAPTER    IX 

THE  scraping  of  saw,  the  clang  of  hammer  and  the 
smell  of  fresh  paint  classed  Bloomtown  as  "Boomtown." 
The  railroad  had  already  peered  into  the  northern  en 
virons  of  the  town,  cutting  diagonally  across  Main 
street,  some  half-dozen  blocks  from  the  plot  of  ground 
that  had  been  rechristened  Court  House  Square.  A 
substantial  municipal  building  took  the  place  of  the 
dingy  old  Town  Hall,  and  the  barns  of  the  now  almost 
defunct  Bloomtown,  Barton  and  Faber  hack  line  had 
been  cleared  away  to  make  room  for  a  decent  hotel.  In 
the  angle  between  the  railroad  tracks  and  Main  street 
a  small  temporary  station  sheltered  travelers.  The 
half-moribund  village  had  burst  its  swaddling  bands 
and  begun  to  expand.  Everybody  was  wearing  grins 
as  a  radiant  garment. 

As  the  summer  traveled  toward  July,  the  headaches 
that  had  been  so  frequent  the  past  winter  merged  into 
a  feeling  of  utter  exhaustion,  and  Ellis  came  down  to 
the  office  but  few  days  of  each  week.  Flossy  stopped 
Jap  at  the  gate  one  noon  hour. 

"Ellis  has  something  to  tell  you,  Jappie,  and  I  want 
you  to  be  very  composed.  Don't  let  yourself  go."  Her 

102 


JAP  HERRON  103 

voice  was  full  of  pleading.  She  turned  quickly  as 
Ellis  appeared  in  the  doorway.  He  walked  out  to  meet 
them. 

"Let  us  sit  out  under  the  trellis  while  Flossy  finishes 
fixing  dinner,"  he  said,  leading  the  way.  "Jap,  your 
birthday  comes  to-morrow,  and  I  am  going  to  ask  you 
to  accept  a  sacred  trust  that  is  a  burden.  You  are 
twenty-one  and,  as  they  say,  'your  own  man.'  I  want 
to  ask  you  to  be  my  man.  Jap,  I  am  going  away,  how 
far  God  only  knows.  The  doctor  says  that  my  lungs 
are  all  wrong,  and  life  in  the  mountains  may  save  me. 
My  boy — for  you  have  been  my  boy  since  you  walked 
through  my  door,  nine  years  ago — I  want  you  to  take 
charge  of  the  office,  and  shoulder  the  support  of  Flossy 
and  the  little  one  if — if —  He  caught  the  horror- 

stricken  boy's  hand.  "Jap,  I  will  never  come  back.  I 
know  it.  I  have  talked  with  my  soul  and  it  is  well. 
Will  you  do  it,  Jap?" 

Jap  pressed  Ellis's  feverish  hand  between  his  strong 
young  palms.  He  could  not  speak.  His  eyes  were  dry 
and  his  lips  twitched. 

"There,"  cautioned  Ellis,  "no  heavy  face  before 
Flossy.  God  bless  her!  she  thinks  that  I  will  be  well 
before  the  new  office  is  done,  and  is  making  more  splen 
did  plans  for  the  big  opening!  She  is Jap,  you 

dunce,  grin  about  something!" 

Flossy   and  the  boy   came  dancing  down   the  sun- 


104  JAP  HERRON 

flecked  path  and  Jap  swung  the  slender  little  fellow  to 
his  shoulder  and  began  a  mock  race  from  Ellis. 

As  soon  as  dinner  was  over,  a  dinner  that  stuck  in  his 
throat  for  hours,  he  told  Flossy  that  two  men  were 
rushing  Bill  to  desperation  for  their  handbills.  He 
hurried  out  by  way  of  the  alley.  Flossy  ran  after  him. 

"You  forgot  your  hat,  Jap,"  she  cried  breathlessly. 

He  took  the  hat  and  started  off  silently. 

"Wait  a  minute,  Jap."  Her  voice  was  insistent. 
"You  didn't  put  on  a  grave  face  with  Ellis,  did  you? 
Oh,  Jap" — the  cry  was  from  her  heart — "he  will  never 
live  to  see  the  new  office !  He  will  never  know  of  the 
realization  of  his  dreams,  the  big  town,  the  trains  whirl 
ing  through,  and  he  looking  down  from  his  lofty  win 
dow  with  a  smile  of  superior  joy.  Oh,  Jap,  how  often 
have  we  heard  him  tell  about  it !  He  doesn't  know. 
He  is  full  of  hope.  Only  just  before  you  came  he  was 
joking  about  the  Star  Spangled  Banner  he  was  going 
to  wind  around  his  brow  when  he  dedicated  the  Herald 
office.  Jap,  be  true  to  his  faith,  for  he  will  never  open 
the  door  of  that  office.  He  will  never  help  to  get  out 
the  first  paper." 

She  strangled  and  turned  away.  Then  in  brisk  tones 
she  added: 

"Now,  Jap,  hurry  along.  Here  comes  Ellis  to  scold." 
And  in  the  marvelous  manner  that  is  God-given  to  lov 
ing  women,  she  forced  a  smile  to  her  lips  as  she  gave 


JAP  HERRON  105 

the  youth  a  playful  shove  and  ran  to  meet  her  hus 
band. 

A  few  days  later  they  left.  The  town  took  a  holi 
day,  and  with  laughter  and  merrymaking  it  celebrated 
Ellis  Hinton's  first  vacation.  A  water  tank  was  in 
process  of  construction,  at  the  upper  end  of  a  half- 
mile  stretch  of  double  track,  and  at  the  lower  end  of 
the  siding,  close  to  Main  street,  the  imposing  brick 
railroad  station  stood  in  potential  grandeur,  its  bricks 
still  separated  by  straw  and  its  ample  foundation  giving 
promise  of  stability  as  it  reposed  in  sacks  of  cement  and 
piles  of  crushed  stone.  Something  of  this  was  incor 
porated  in  Ellis's  farewell  speech  as  he  addressed  his 
townspeople.  When  the  train  began  to  move  his  black 
head  was  still  visible,  as  he  returned  quip  for  joke. 
And  Flossy  was  flitting  from  her  lifelong  friends  as  if 
no  trouble  clouded  her  brow. 

Little  J.  W.  was  the  feature  of  the  going,  and  under 
the  pretense  of  caring  for  his  wants,  their  sleeper  com 
partment  had  been  piled  with  fruit  and  flowers  by  lov 
ing  friends  who  had  gone  on  to  the  nearest  town  to 
meet  the  train,  so  that  the  surprise  should  be  the  more 
complete.  Then,  to  the  sound  of  the  village  band,  Ellis 
left  what  he  had  always  called  "my  town."  Jap  did 
not  go  to  the  station,  and  when  Bill  found  the  door  of 
their  improvised  office  locked,  he  turned  silently  away. 
His  heart  was  full,  too. 

The  Widow  Raymond  had  offered  them  a  room  for 


106  JAP  HERRON 

a  printing  office.  The  press  occupied  the  room.  Jap 
and  Bill  set  the  type  in  the  woodshed  and  carried  the 
galleys  in.  During  the  nine  years  of  their  association 
Bill  had  been  the  unsteady  member  of  the  team,  con 
suming  more  effort  in  devising  ways  and  means  of  es 
caping  work  than  the  work  would  have  cost,  and  toiling 
with  feverish  penitence  when  he  realized  that  he  had 
wrought  a  hardship  to  Jap  or  Ellis.  But  now,  inspired 
by  the  dimpled  face  of  Rosy  Raymond,  he  worked  as 
he  had  never  worked  in  his  life.  Odd  things  began  to 
happen.  Bill  insisted  on  doing  all  the  proof-reading,  a 
task  he  had  hitherto  detested.  A  bit  of  verse  occa 
sionally  crept  into  the  columns  of  the  Herald.  Jap 
did  not  detect  this  verse  for  several  weeks.  When  he 
did,  he  descended  upon  Bill. 

"Where  in  Heck  did  you  filch  that  doggerel?" 

"Who  said  it  was  doggerel?"  demanded  Bill. 

"Lord  love  you,"  cried  Jap,  "what  could  any  sane 
being  call  it?  What  did  you  get  for  publishing  it — 
advertising  rates?" 

"You're  a  fool!"  snapped  Bill.  "You  think  that 
you're  a  criterion.  I  will  have  you  know  that  lots  of 
folks  have  complimented  it." 

Jap  took  up  the  offending  sheet. 

"  'Thine  eyes  are  blue,  thine  lips  are  red,  thine  locks 
are  gold,'  "  he  groaned.  He  looked  at  Bill.  Just  then 
the  door  opened  and  Rosy  stepped  into  the  room.  A 
great  light  shone  on  Jap's  understanding.  Her  eyes 


JAP  HERRON  107 

were  blue,  her  lips  certainly  red,  and  a  fervid  imagination 
could  call  her  hair  gold.  He  sighed  pathetically. 

"Bill,  don't  you  think  you  could  write  it  out  and 
relieve  the  pressure  on  your  heart,  without  endanger 
ing  our  prestige?" 

Bill  kicked  at  the  mongrel  dog  that  had  its  habitat 
under  the  press,  and  marched  out  indignantly. 

"I'll  be  glad  if  I  get  him  out  of  here  single,"  mused 
Jap.  "He  has  these  spells  as  regular  as  the  seasons 
change.  Heretofore  his  prospects  have  never  entitled 
him  to  consideration.  This  time  it  may  be  different." 

Bill  had  been  systematically  chased  from  every  front 
gate  in  town,  behind  which  rosy-cheeked  girls  abode ;  but 
the  disquieting  conviction  swooped  down  upon  Jap  that 
Barkis,  in  the  shape  of  the  Widow  Raymond,  might  be 
more  than  "willin'  "  to  hitch  Bill  to  her  sixteen-year-old 
daughter.  And  if  Bill  had  not  contracted  a  new  va 
riety  of  measles  at  the  most  opportune  time,  Jap's  fore 
bodings  might  have  been  realized.  Bill  had  the  "catch 
ing"  habit.  No  contagion  in  town  ever  escaped  him, 
and  this  time  he  was  so  ill  that  he  had  to  go  to  the  coun 
try  to  recuperate. 

The  new  stores  opened,  one  by  one,  with  much  cele 
bration.  Owing  to  several  unaccountable  financial  com 
plications,  the  last  of  all  the  important  buildings  on 
Main  street  to  be  finished  was  the  Herald  office.  A  cyl 
inder  press,  second-handed,  to  be  sure,  but  none  the 
less  an  object  of  admiration,  was  installed,  and  fonts  of 


108  JAP  HERRON 

clean,  new  type  stood  ready  for  work.  There  was  a 
great,  sunny  front  office  on  the  main  floor,  and  the 
ample  space  behind  it  had  been  divided  into  composing 
room,  press  room  and  private  office.  On  the  second 
floor  was  a  small  job  press,  and  here,  at  Jap's  sugges 
tion,  the  old  Washington  press  was  stored.  The  rooms 
were  decorated  with  flags,  and  bunting  was  strung 
across  the  front  of  the  office.  Judge  Bowers  had  per 
sonally  attended  to  this. 

"You're  going  to  have  a  dandy  paper,"  Tom  Gran 
ger  beamed,  as  he  accompanied  Jap  on  the  final  tour  of 
inspection.  "We'll  all  have  to  stop  business  to  watch 
this  cylinder  press  spill  out  the  news." 

Wat  Harlow  had  run  down  from  the  Capital  to  con 
gratulate  the  staff.  At  his  suggestion  the  merchants 
had  ordered  flowers  from  the  city,  and  great  vases  of 
roses  and  carnations,  and  decorative  pieces  in  symbolic 
design,  stood  around  in  fragrant  profusion.  Every 
room  of  the  office  was  filled  with  them. 

The  forms  were  ready  for  the  printing  of  that  first 
paper,  and  only  awaited  the  conclusion  of  Wat's  speech, 
to  be  placed  upon  the  press,  so  that  Bloomtown  should 
receive  the  salutatory  Herald.  Jap  turned  to  the  as 
semblage,  waiting  in  eager  curiosity  to  see  the  cylinder 
revolve. 

"The  paper  will  be  printed  on  Ellis's  press,"  he  said 
briefly.  "I  don't  want  to  be  ungrateful  for  your  kind- 


JAP  HERRON  109 

ness,  but  will  you  leave  Bill  and  me  alone  to  get  out  our 
first  edition?" 

They  filed  out  slowly,  awed  by  the  grief  in  the  voice 
of  Ellis's  boy. 

With  the  old  types,  on  the  old  Washington  hand 
press,  they  printed  the  first  Herald  of  the  new  regime. 
With  the  exception  of  the  greeting  on  the  front  page, 
every  word  was  reprinted  from  the  predictions  written 
by  Ellis  in  the  years  agone,  and  the  greeting,  in  long 
pica  on  the  first  page,  was  his  telegram  to  them  and  his 
townsmen  received  that  morning. 

When  the  last  paper  was  printed  by  the  two  sad- 
faced  boys  on  their  day  of  jubilee,  and  the  pile  had 
been  folded  and  carried  downstairs,  Jap  closed  the 
press  upon  the  inky  type,  and  gathered  the  great 
bunches  of  fragrant  blossoms  and  heaped  them  upon 
the  press,  to  be  forever  silent.  With  a  groan  of  an 
guish,  he  threw  himself  against  them.  Bill  slipped  his 
arm  through  Jap's,  and  together  they  celebrated  the 
day  that  was  Ellis's.  And  in  the  night  the  telegram 
came: 

"At  rest.    FLOSSY." 


CHAPTER   X 

WHEN  Ellis  went  away  it  was  to  the  sound  of  jollity. 
He  came  back  to  a  town  shrouded  in  mourning.  Every 
store  was  closed,  and  symbols  of  grief  adorned  most  of 
them.  Wat  Harlow,  with  a  delicacy  Ellis  would  scarce 
ly  have  expected  of  him,  had  ordered  purple  ribbon  and 
white  flowers  to  tie  with  the  crape.  Silent  and  grief- 
stricken,  the  town  stood  waiting  the  arrival  of  the 
train.  When  it  came,  the  coffin  was  lifted  by  loving 
hands  and  carried  the  ten  long  blocks  to  the  church. 
No  cold  hearse  rattled  his  precious  body,  but,  even  as 
the  body  of  Robert  Louis  Stevenson  was  held  by  human 
touch  until  the  last  office  was  done,  so  was  Ellis  Hinton, 
the  country  printer,  carried  to  his  last  repose  by  the 
hands  of  his  friends. 

Not  until  Jap  looked  for  a  long,  anguished  moment 
upon  the  flower-massed  grave  did  he  realize  that  he  was 
alone,  that  he  was  drifting,  that  he  had  no  anchor. 
Something  of  this  he  expressed  to  Flossy,  between  dry 
sobs,  when  they  had  left  Ellis  alone  in  the  secluded  little 
cemetery.  Her  eyes  burned  with  a  strange,  maternal 
light  as  she  comforted  the  boy  whose  grief  was  of  the 
fibre  of  her  own. 

110 


JAP  HERRON  111 

"Ellis  knew  that  you  would  feel  that  way,"  she  said 
gently,  "and  because  of  that,  he  made  a  will  that  is  to 
be  read  to-night.  Wat  Harlow  has  it.  Until  it  is  read, 
I  want  you  not  to  trouble." 

That  evening,  with  all  the  important  men  of  the 
town  assembled  in  the  big  front  room  of  the  Herald 
office,  Wat  Karlow  read  brokenly  the  last  "reading  no 
tice"  of  Bloomtown's  sleeping  hero.  It  was  written  in 
the  familiar  scrawl  that  everybody  knew,  with  scarcely 
a  waver  in  its  lines  to  tell  that  a  dying  hand  had 
penned  it: 

"I  am  going  a  long  journey,  but  not  so  far  that  I 
cannot  vision  your  growth.  It  was  the  labor  of  love  to 
plan  for  this  time.  In  the  gracious  wisdom  of  God  it 
was  not  intended  that  I  should  enjoy  it  with  you;  but 
as  Moses  looked  into  his  promised  land,  so  through  the 
eyes  of  the  Herald  I  have  seen  mine.  And  God,  in  His 
wonderful  way,  has  sent  you  another  optimist  to  do  the 
royal  work  of  upbuilding  a  town. 

"My  town,  my  people,  I  leave  to  you  the  greatest 
gift  I  have  to  offer.  I  give  you  my  boy,  Jap.  He  is 
worthy.  Hold  up  his  hands,  in  memory  of 

"ELLIS  HINTON." 

As  Harlow  folded  the  paper,  with  hands  that  trem 
bled,  he  was  not  conscious  of  the  fact  that  hot  tears 
were  streaming  down  his  cheeks.  There  was  an  instant 


112  JAP  HERRON 

of  tense  silence.  Then  Tom  Granger  walked  over  to 
the  boy  who  lay,  face  downward  across  the  table,  arms 
outspread  in  abandon  of  grief.  He  took  one  limp  hand 
in  his,  and  a  voiceless  message  went  from  heart  to  heart. 
Jap  aroused  himself.  One  by  one  the  men  of  Bloom- 
town  filed  by.  No  word  was  spoken,  but  each  man 
pledged  himself  to  Ellis  Hinton  as  he  took  the  hand  of 
Ellis's  boy  in  a  firm  clasp.  When  the  others  had  gone, 
Wat  Harlow  remained. 

For  a  moment  he  stood  silent  beside  the  table.  Then 
with  a  cry  of  utter  heartbreak,  he  sank  to  his  knees  and 
permitted  the  bereaved  boy  to  give  vent  to  his  long- 
repressed  agony  in  a  saving  flood  of  tears.  When  they 
left  the  office  together,  there  had  been  welded  a  friend 
ship  that  was  stronger  than  years  of  any  other  un 
derstanding  could  have  given. 

Flossy  went  back  to  the  cottage,  and,  like  the  brave 
helpmeet  of  such  a  man  as  Ellis  Hinton  must  have  been, 
did  not  sadden  the  days  with  her  grief.  Sometimes,  in 
the  little  arbor,  with  J.  W.  playing  at  her  feet,  she 
sang  softly  over  her  sewing: 

"Beautiful  isle  of  Somewhere, 

Isle  of  the  true,  where  we  live  anew, 
Beautiful  isle  of  Somewhere." 

It  was  her  advice  that  caused  the  boys  to  fit  up  a 
bedroom  and  living-room  on  the  second  floor  of  the 
office.  It  was  her  idea  that  separated  Bill  from  the 


JAP  HERRON  113 

unsteady  air  of  his  home.  The  Judge,  heeding  the 
scriptural  injunction  implied  in  the  immortal  words  of 
Moses,  "It  is  not  good  that  man  should  be  alone,"  had 
taken  unto  himself  a  fourth  wife,  and  Bill  had  so  many 
rows  with  his  latest  stepmother  that  there  was  no  op 
position  to  the  change.  Tom  Granger  observed  that  it 
had  been  so  many  matrimonial  moons  since  Bill  had  a 
mother  that  he  did  not  know  whether  he  had  any  real 
kinfolks  at  all.  It  was  certain  that  he  knew  little  of 
the  real  meaning  of  the  word  "home."  Flossy  boarded 
them,  and  her  cottage  was  their  haven  of  refuge  during 
many  a  long  evening.  It  was  sad  comfort,  and  yet  it 
was  the  surest  comfort,  to  have  her  live  over  again 
those  last  days  in  the  mountains,  when  Ellis's  thoughts 
bridged  space  and  visualized  the  rebuilding  of  Bloom- 
town. 

Perhaps  Flossy  sensed  the  fact  that  these  evenings 
were  bone  and  sinew  to  Jap's  manhood.  The  boy,  never 
careless,  was  changing  to  a  man  of  purpose,  such  as 
would  be  the  product  of  Ellis  Hinton's  training.  The 
stray,  born  of  the  union  of  purposeless,  useless  Jacky 
Herron,  and  Mary,  peevish  and  fretful,  changeable  and 
inconstant,  had  been  born  again  into  the  likeness  of 
the  man  who  had  been  almost  a  demigod  to  him. 

The  town  was  growing,  as  Ellis  had  prophesied,  and 
was  creeping  in  three  directions  across  the  prairie.  It 
incorporated  and  began  to  settle  into  regular  lines. 
Spring  street  showed  but  few  gaps  in  the  line  of  cot- 


114  JAP  HERRON 

tages  that  ran  almost  all  the  way  from  the  rear  of 
Blanke's  drug  store  to  Flossy's  home,  and  another  line 
of  modest  cottages  looked  at  them  from  the  other  side 
of  the  street.  A  new  and  fashionable  residence  place 
was  laid  out,  in  the  extreme  south  end  of  town,  as  far 
from  the  grime  and  soot  of  the  railroad  as  possible ; 
but  the  substantial  old  families  still  clung  to  their  an 
cestral  halls  in  the  vicinity  of  Court  House  Square. 

One  day  in  early  spring  Bill  burst  into  the  office,  his 
reporter's  pad  flapping  wildly.  His  brown  eyes  danced. 

"Big  doings !"  he  shouted.  "Pap's  going  to  run  for 
mayor,  and  he  wants  the  Herald  to  voice  the  cry  of  the 
town  for  his  services." 

"Who  said  so?"  queried  Jap,  sticking  away  at  the 
last  legislative  report. 

"Nobody  but  him — as  far  as  I  can  find  out,"  Bill 
returned,  grinning  knowingly.  "It  seems  that  they  had 
a  mess  of  turnip  greens,  from  cellar  sprouts,  and  they 
gave  him  cramps.  He  was  dozing  under  paregoric  when 
the  idea  hit  him.  It  grew  like  the  turnip  sprouts,  fast 
but  pale.  He  wants  us  to  water  the  sprouts  and  give 
'em  air,  so  that  they'll  get  color  in  them." 

"How  much  did  he  send  in  for  the  color?"  asked  Jap, 
climbing  down  interestedly. 

The  Associate  Editor  flashed  a  two-dollar  bill. 

"I  told  Pap  that  if  any  opposition  sprouted,  he'd 
have  to  raise  the  ante,"  he  remarked.  "He  squealed 
loud  enough  when  I  squeezed  him  for  this,  but  I  con- 


JAP  HERRON  115 

vinced  him  that  we  had  about  done  away  with  charity 
practice.  Told  him  the  Herald  was  out  of  the  amateur 
class,  and  after  this  election  the  ante  'd  be  five  bones." 

"Well,"  conceded  Jap,  "as  he  is  Flossy's  brother, 
we'll  have  to  spread  it  on  thick  for  the  low  price  of 
introduction.  Look  up  that  woodcut  of  Sames,  the 
Chautauqua  lecturer.  If  you'll  chisel  off  the  beard,  we 
can  use  it  for  the  Judge.  I  think  that  we  will  kill  that 
story  you  cribbed  from  the  St.  Louis  Republic,  about 
the  President's  morning  canter  with  his  family  physi 
cian,  and  run  the  Judge  along  the  first  column.  By  the 
way,  Bill,  it  would  be  a  good  idea  to  trace  his  career 
from  joyous  boyhood  to  the  dignity  of  the  judicial 
office.  What  judge  was  he?  Since  I  have  known  him, 
he  has  never  'worked  at  the  bench.' ' 

Bill  grinned  wickedly. 

"He  was  judge  of  live  stock  at  the  county  fair!" 

"Fallen  is  Caesar !"  Jap  exploded.  "What  can  we 
say  about  him?" 

"Nothin'  for  certain,  as  Kelly  Jones  says,"  Bill  la 
mented. 

"I  never  tried  fiction,"  Jap  averred,  "but  for  the 
honor  of  the  first  aspirant  to  the  office  of  Mayor  of 
Bloomtown,  and  the  greater  glory  of  our  Associate 
Editor,  I  am  going  to  plunge." 

And  plunge  he  did.  When  the  town  read  the  eulo- 
gium  that  Jap  spread  upon  the  front  page  of  the  Her 
ald  it  gasped  as  from  a  sudden  cold  plunge,  sat  up, 


116  JAP  HERRON 

rubbed  its  eyes,  and  concluded  that  it  had  somehow 
failed  to  understand  or  appreciate  its  foremost  son. 
Hollins,  the  leading  grocer,  and  Bolton,  the  furniture 
dealer,  had  felt  the  itch  for  office ;  and  Marquis,  the  at 
torney,  had  stood  in  his  doorway  for  a  week  awaiting 
the  delegation  that  would  press  upon  him  the  nomina 
tion  ;  but  all  these  aspirants  faded  like  poppies  in  the 
wake  of  the  reaper.  Nobody  could  be  found  to  buck  a 
sure  thing,  such  as  Judge  Bowers,  backed  by  the  power 
of  the  press. 

The  week  after  election,  the  Herald  sported  fifty 
small  flags  through  its  columns,  and  quoted  Wat  Har- 
low's  speech  in  which  he  declared  that  Judge  William 
Hiram  Bowers  was  "the  noblest  Roman  of  them  all." 
For  which  Bill  accounted  to  Jap  by  the  astute  observa 
tion  that  Rome  was  a  long  way  off.  The  Judge  hardly 
caught  Wat's  meaning,  and  came  into  the  office  to 
protest. 

"I  am  afeard  that  folks  '11  think  we  have  Catholic 
blood  in  the  family,"  he  complained,  shaking  the  paper 
nervously. 

"Mystery  is  the  blood  of  progress,  Pap,"  assured 
Bill  gravely.  "If  you  will  notice,  the  men  that  get 
there  always  have  a  skeleton  rattling  a  limb  now  and 
then." 

"Mis'  Bowers  don't  like  it,"  he  objected.  "I  had  to 
quit  the  Methodists  and  be  immersed  in  the  Baptists 
afore  she'd  have  me,  and  now  she's  fairly  tearin'  up 


JAP  HERRON  117 

the  wind  over  this  talk  about  me  bein'  a  Roman.  You 
gotta  correct  it !" 

"We  have  given  you  a  hundred  dollars'  worth  of  ad 
vertising  for  a  measly  two-dollar  bill,"  declared  Jap 
emphatically.  "The  columns  of  the  Herald  are  free  to 
news.  Advertising  at  our  regular  rates.  Bill  will  give 
you  particulars." 

"Dollar  an  inch  for  display,"  crisped  Bill;  "ten 
cents  a  line  for  readers."  He  seated  himself,  pencil  in 
hand,  as  he  added,  "payable  in  advance." 

"Make  a  flat  rate  of  ten  dollars,  as  it  is  the  Judge," 
advised  Jap  judicially. 

The  Mayor-elect  decided  to  let  it  alone ;  but  Jap 
mentioned  the  fact,  in  the  next  issue  of  the  Herald, 
that  Judge  Bowers  had  alleged  that  he  was  born  in 
New  England,  of  Puritan  stock,  and  had  no  Italian 
sympathies — which  lucid  statement  abundantly  satis 
fied  Judge  and  Mrs.  Bowers,  but  set  the  town  to  won 
dering  what  the  Judge  was  hiding  in  the  dim  annals  of 
his  past. 


CHAPTER    XI 

"I  WORKED  a  bunch  of  passes  out  of  the  agent  for 
that  Indian  medicine  show,"  announced  Bill,  washing 
his  hands.  "Want  to  take  her,  Jap?"  and  he  jerked  his 
head  in  the  direction  of  the  front  door,  where  Isabel 
Granger  was  passing. 

"No ;  I'm  going  out  to  Flossy's  a  while.  I  want  to 
talk  some  things  over  with  her." 

There  was  no  further  discussion,  for  at  that  moment 
Rosy  Raymond  floated  by,  and  Bill  started  out  in  eager 
pursuit.  Ever  since  the  election,  Jap  had  been  ob 
sessed  by  a  disquieting  foreboding.  One  of  Mayor  Bow- 
ers's  first  official  acts  was  to  authorize  the  opening  of  a 
second  saloon  on  Main  street,  and  he  was  rapidly  push 
ing  the  work  of  erecting  two  new  business  houses  which, 
rumor  declared,  were  to  house  other  thirst  palaces. 
Hitherto  the  natives  and  the  surrounding  territory 
had  been  amply  supplied  by  Holmes ;  but  Bloomtown 
was  growing  beyond  the  reach  of  one  saloon. 

Holmes  had  come  across  with  a  double-sized  license, 
under  promise  of  the  Mayor  that  he  should  continue  to 
have  a  monopoly  of  the  trade.  And  when  the  good 
people  of  the  various  churches  waited  upon  Judge  Bow- 

118 


JAP  HERRON  119 

ers  to  protest  against  what  they  were  disposed  to  call 
the  "introduction  of  Satan  into  their  town,"  he  called 
their  attention  to  the  need  for  municipal  revenue.  If 
one  saloon  was  a  help,  two  saloons  would  double  that 
help.  The  town  had  already  begun  to  show  signs  of 
genuine  progress.  It  had  to  build  a  calaboose  to  take 
care  of  the  saloon's  patrons,  and  the  regular  fines  for 
plain  drunks  almost  paid  the  cost  of  the  court  that 
collected  them. 

Once  Jap  thought  he  detected  a  sinister  reason  for 
Bill's  flushed  cheeks  and  unsteady  gait  as  he  passed 
hastily  through  the  office  on  his  way  to  the  sleeping 
room  above.  The  next  morning  Bill  declared  that  he 
had  been  a  fool,  and  had  paid  for  his  folly  with  a  severe 
headache,  and  Jap,  with  the  delicacy  that  was  Jap's, 
let  the  subject  drop.  It  was  becoming  fashionable  for 
the  young  fellows  of  the  town  to  assume  a  tough  swag 
ger.  Those  who  had  formerly  resorted  to  barn  lofts 
and  musty  cellars  paraded  their  sophistication  on  Main 
street,  and  Bill  would  rather  be  dead  than  out  of  style. 
Jap  wanted  to  talk  it  over  with  Flossy,  but  he  had 
never  found  the  key  to  open  such  poignant  confidence. 
What  right  had  he  to  burden  Flossy  with  fresh  anx 
iety?  In  his  loneliness,  he  yearned  for  Ellis  as  he  had 
never  yearned  before. 

He  was  sitting  on  the  little  front  porch,  tossing  J. 
W.  on  the  tough  old  trotting  horse  afforded  by  his  two 
ill-padded  knees,  and  vaguely  wondering  how  he  could 


120  JAP  HERRON 

introduce  the  subject  of  Bloomtown's  swift  decay,  with 
out  wounding  Judge  Bowers's  sister  and  Bill's  aunt, 
when  they  heard  a  great  tumult  in  the  vicinity  of  the 
medicine  show.  After  a  while  Bill  came  up  the  walk 
with  Rosy. 

"What  was  the  racket  about?"  Jap  asked  incuri 
ously. 

Rosy  giggled. 

"They  wanted  to  nominate  the  ugliest  man  in  town, 
and  there  was  a  fight,"  she  said. 

"Shut  up!"  growled  Bill.  "Haven't  you  got  any 
sense?" 

"Sam  Waldron  nominated  Jap,"  she  sputtered,  be 
tween  giggles. 

A  hot  flush  swept  over  Jap.  Always  keenly  sensi 
tive,  he  had  never  armored  himself  against  the  playful 
brutalities  of  his  friends.  The  shame  of  being  made  a 
subject  of  ridicule  cut  deeply. 

"Rosy  is  a  fool!"  snapped  Bill. 

"What  was  the  fuss  about?"  asked  Flossy,  prompted 
by  a  conviction  that  further  revelation  would  be  good 
for  Jap. 

"Why,  Isabel  Granger  slapped  his  face,  and  Bill 
jumped  in  and  punched  him  in  the  ribs,  and  the  crowd 
wanted  to  take  him  down  to  the  pond  and  duck  him." 

Flossy's  hand,  sought  Jap's,  and  she  laughed  softly. 

"That  was  worth  while,  boy.  How  Ellis  would  have 
written  it  up!" 


JAP  HERRON  121 

Jap  smiled,  but  the  sting  was  still  there.  When  it 
was  evident  that  Bill  and  Rosy  expected  to  spend  the 
evening,  he  arose  with  a  tired,  "Well,  I'll  be  going," 
and  walked  around  the  cottage  to  the  alley  gate.  He 
was  afraid  of  meeting  some  one  on  Spring  street,  and 
he  made  excuse  to  his  own  consciousness  that  the  alley 
had  always  been  the  rational  highway  between  the  cot 
tage  and  the  office.  He  put  his  hand  in  his  pocket  for 
his  key,  as  he  emerged  on  Main  street. 

As  he  approached  the  door,  he  saw  that  some  one 
was  sitting  on  the  steps.  She  sprang  up  and  laid 
trembling  hands  on  his  arm. 

"Oh,  Jap,  you  won't  mind !  You  won't  let  it  hurt 
you?  Everybody  knows  that  you  are  the  best-looking 
man  in  town.  At  least  I — think  so !" 

Before  he  could  grasp  her  arm,  the  girl  was  gone. 
That  night  Jap  lay  awake  long  hours,  thinking,  think 
ing.  With  the  morning,  reason  returned.  He  had  as 
sumed  responsibility  for  Flossy  and  the  boy.  He  must 
not  think  again. 

And  indeed  the  next  few  days  gave  him  little  time  for 
thought.  Wat  Harlow  slipped  into  the  office  late  one 
afternoon.  He  wore  a  furtive  look  and  an  appearance 
of  guilt.  There  was  about  him  a  suggestion  of  gum 
shoes.  Something  must  be  amiss. 

"I  want  to  see  you  alone,  Jap,"  he  confessed. 

Jap  led  the  way  to  the  little  private  office.     Harlow 


122  JAP  HERRON 

was  pulling  nervously  at  the  stubby  mustache  that  hid 
his  short  upper  lip. 

"In  trouble,  Wat?"  asked  Jap  anxiously. 

"No — not  exactly.  You  see,  it's  this  way "  He 

coughed  apologetically.  "The  wife  had  a  dream,  a 
funny  dream,  the  other  night.  She's  had  curious  dreams 
ever  since  we  took  that  long  trip,  to  New  York  and  all 
over,  last  year,  and  there  may  be  nothing  to  it, 

but "  He  lit  a  fresh  cigar,  and  went  at  it  again. 

"She  says  that  she  saw  me  going  into  the  Capitol  at 
Washington  just  as  if  I  belonged  there.  And  she  got 

a  notion Jap,  you  know  how  notionate  women 

are.  She  thinks — well,  she  thinks  that  I  might  be  called 
to  run  for  the  House  of  Representatives." 

"Oh,  I  see,"  said  Jap,  illuminated.  "It  would  sound 
good  for  the  Herald  to  mention  that  you  are  in  line?" 

"Not  rough-like,  Jap  !  Just  a  little  tickle  in  the  ribs, 
to  see  what  they'd  say." 

"Oh,  I'll  fix  that,"  declared  Jap,  laughing.  And  the 
Herald  flung  the  hat  in  the  ring  for  "Harlow,  the  one 
honest  man." 

Jap  smiled  sadly  as  he  read  his  copy  over.  He  had 
a  habit  of  wondering  what  Ellis  would  have  said.  He 
wondered,  too,  what  attitude  the  editor  of  the  Barton 
Standard  would  take.  The  Standard  had  recently 
changed  hands,  and  since  Bloomtown  had  pulled  a 
saloon,  a  sunbonnet  factory  and  two  business  houses 
out  of  Barton,  a  rapid-fire  editorial  war  had  been  in 


JAP  HERRON  123 

progress.  By  some  curious  dispensation  of  Provi 
dence,  Jones  of  the  Standard  and  Herron  of  the  Herald 
had  never  met.  Jap  was  not  hunting  trouble,  but  the 
same  spirit  that  prompted  him  to  thrash  his  tormen 
tors,  the  day  of  his  advent  in  Ellis  Hinton's  town, 
caused  him  to  wield  a  fire-tipped  pen  against  the  Stand 
ard. 

That  opposition  to  Wat's  candidacy  would  develop, 
before  the  nomination,  was  to  be  expected;  but  oppo 
sition  on  the  part  of  the  Barton  Standard  would  be  a 
purely  personal  matter,  the  Standard  having  its  own 
party  fights  to  foster.  But  that  was  all  Jap  feared. 

It  was  even  worse  than  he  could  have  imagined,  for 
Jones  dug  up  a  bloody  ghost  to  walk  at  every  political 
meeting.  Not  only  were  all  Wat  Harlow's  sins  of 
omission  and  commission  paraded  in  the  Standard,  but 
he  was  proclaimed  as  the  implacable  foe  of  higher  edu 
cation.  In  vain  did  his  home  paper  print  his  record,  of 
beneficent  bills  introduced,  of  committee  work  on  be 
half  of  the  district  schools,  and  his  great  speech  set 
ting  forth  the  need  of  a  new  normal  school  building. 
Jones  had  one  trump  card  left  in  his  hand,  and  the  day 
before  the  convention  he  played  it.  It  was  a  handbill, 
yellow  with  age  and  ragged  around  the  edges,  but  still 
showing  a  badly  spelled,  abominably  punctuated  story 
in  vermilion  ink,  with  a  weeping  angel  at  the  top  and  a 
rooster  and  two  prancing  stallions  at  the  bottom.  It 


JAP  HERRON 

proved  Wat  Harlow  the  undying  foe  of  the  State  Uni 
versity. 

Despite  all  the  Herald's  valiant  work,  that  night 
mare  was  Harlow's  undoing.  The  nomination  went  to  a 
rising  politician  at  the  opposite  side  of  the  congres 
sional  district.  A  great  change  had  come  over  the 
sentiment  of  the  state,  since  the  day  when  the  Univer 
sity  had  been  the  favorite  tool  of  the  political  grafters. 
Every  village  had  its  band  of  rooters  for  the  Alma 
Mater,  and  when  the  nominating  convention  came  to  a 
close  it  was  apparent  that  Wat  Harlow  was  hardly  an 
"also  ran." 

Defeat  was  galling  enough;  but  the  Standard's  ex 
pressions  of  glee  were  unbearable.  Jap's  red  hair 
stood  on  end,  "like  quills  upon  the  fretful  porcupine," 
as  he  stood  at  his  case  and  threw  the  type  into  the 
stick,  hot  from  the  wrath  in  his  soul.  The  paper  was 
printed,  as  usual,  on  Thursday;  but  Friday  brought  a 
change  in  the  even  tenor  of  Bloomtown's  way.  Jones, 
of  the  Standard,  was  a  passenger  on  the  eastbound 
train  that  left  Barton  a  little  after  noon.  His  destina 
tion  was  Bloomtown. 

"I  am  looking  for  a  cross-eyed,  slit-eared  pup  by 
the  name  of  Herron,"  was  the  greeting  he  flung  into 
the  Herald's  sanctum.  The  door  to  the  composing 
room  was  open.  Jap  looked  up  wearily. 

"Would  you  mind  sitting  down  and  keeping  quiet 
till  I  finish  setting  up  this  address  to  the  bag  of  wind 


JAP  HERRON  125 

that  edits  the  Barton  Standard?"  he  said  impersonally. 

Jones,  of  the  Standard,  sat  down  and  gaped  at  the 
long,  lank  figure  on  the  stool.  A  moment  he  went  limp 
and  terrified;  then  he  rallied  his  courage. 

"Do  you  unwind  all  at  once?"  he  asked,  as  Jap  dis 
entangled  his  legs  from  the  stool.  "I  take  back  what 
I  said  about  a  pup.  You're  a  full-grown  dog,  all  right. 
I  wasn't  looking  for  a  brick-top,  either.  No  wonder 
you  have  a  weakness  for  vermilion." 

"Better  come  outside  of  town,"  Jap  interrupted. 
"I've  been  intending  to  go  over  to  Barton  to  have  a 
look  at  you,  but  it's  better  thus.  I  have  been  stealing 
space  from  my  readers  long  enough.  They  pay  for 
more  important  things  than  my  private  opinion  of  you. 
I  made  up  my  mind  to  stop  the  argument  by  giving  you 
a  hell  of  a  licking,  and  I've  only  waited  because  I  didn't 
care  to  risk  my  reputation  in  a  neighboring  town.  Here 
it  will  be  different.  In  the  midst  of  my  friends,  I  hope 
to  fix  you  so  that  you'll  never  try  to  throw  filth  on 
any  one  again." 

Jones  arose  hastily. 

"I  want  no  row,"  he  said  uneasily.  "I  just  want  an 
understanding." 

"You  have  the  right  idea,"  cried  Jap.  "You  are  go 
ing  to  get  lots  of  understanding  before  you  leave  Bloom- 
town." 

At  that  moment  the  town  marshal  strolled  in,  wear 
ing  his  star  pinned  on  his  blue  flannel  shirt. 


126  JAP  HERRON 

"I  demand  protection,"  Jones  shouted.  "This  man 
has  threatened  me." 

"What's  the  row,  Jap?"  asked  the  monitor  of  peace 
tolerantly. 

"This  is  Mr.  Wilfred  Jones,  of  the  Barton  Standard" 
was  all  that  Jap  said.  But  the  effect  was  electrical. 
The  man  of  peace  was  transformed  into  an  engine  of 
vengeance. 

"Going  to  beat  him  up?"  he  yelled.  "Go  to  it,  and 
I'm  here,  if  you  need  help." 

Jap  took  off  his  coat,  deliberately.  He  unclasped  his 
cuffs  and  was  in  the  act  of  unbuttoning  his  collar,  when 
the  local  freight  whistled  for  the  crossing  below  town. 
With  a  mighty  leap  the  man  from  Barton  cleared  the 
space  between  his  chair  and  the  door.  The  strolling 
populace  of  Main  street  was  scattered  like  leaves  be 
fore  a  sudden  gust  of  wind.  There  was  an  abortive 
cry  of  "Stop,  thief!"  and  a  bewildered  pursuit  by  sev 
eral  tipsy  bums  who  had  been  loafing  in  front  of  Bing- 
ham's  saloon,  but  the  appearance  of  the  marshal,  wear 
ing  a  broad  grin  of  satisfaction,  dispelled  apprehen 
sion. 

'"phat  was  Jones,  travelin'  light,"  he  explained. 

The  next  issue  of  the  Standard  failed  to  mention  the 
editorial  visit  to  Bloomtown ;  but  the  scurrilous  articles 
ceased  and  there  was  quiet  again. 

"Did  Ellis  ever  have  a  fight — that  kind  of  a  fight — 
with  anybody?"  Jap  asked  Flossy,  when  Bill  had  fin- 


JAP  HERRON  127 

isheid  his  second-hand  recital  of  the  show  that  "he 
wouldn't  have  missed  for  his  farm  in  Texas."  In  Bill's 
heart  there  arose  a  mighty  resentment  against  Rosy 
Raymond,  who  had  enticed  him  from  the  office  just  be 
fore  Jones  arrived. 

"Ellis  did  a  good  deal  of  fighting  before  he  got  me  to 
fight  his  battles  for  him,"  she  said,  a  whimsical  smile 
in  her  gentle  eyes.  "You  ought  to  know,  Jap.  I  never 
would  have  had  Ellis  if  he  hadn't  whipped  Brother 
William." 

"But  that  wasn't  a  matter  of  personal  grudge,"  Jap 
argued.  It  had  seemed  to  him  that  somehow  he  had 
degraded  himself  when  he  went  down  to  Jones's  ethical 
level.  "I  wanted  to  use  my  fists  because  Jones  ridi 
culed  me.  When  Ellis  licked  the  Judge,  it  wasn't  a 
personal  matter.  He  did  it  for  me." 

"And  you  did  this  for — for  the  honor  of  Bloom- 
town,"  cried  Bill,  with  enthusiasm. 


CHAPTER    XII 

"SOMETHING'S  broke  loose,"  announced  Bill,  slam 
ming  the  door  violently.  "Pap's  bought  an  automobile." 
Which  illuminative  remark  indicated  that  Judge  Bow- 
ers's  mind  had  expanded  to  let  in  a  fresh  vagary. 

Jap  looked  up  inquiringly. 

"I  reckon  it's  all  on  account  of  Billy  Wamkiss,"  Bill 
explained. 

"Billy  who?  There  never  was  no  such  animal,"  and 
Jap  scowled  at  the  stick  in  his  hand.  Conditions  in 
Bloomtown  were,  as  Jim  Blanke  expressed  it,  all  to  the 
bad.  While  the  political  fight  was  at  white  heat  the 
Mayor  had  contrived  to  have  his  own  way.  He  was 
going  to  "make  the  town"  which  Ellis  Hinton  had  failed 
to  make.  There  would  be  revenue  enough  to  provide 
metropolitan  improvements,  and  already  there  was  a 
metropolitan,  perhaps  even  a  Monte  Carlo-tan,  air  to 
the  recently  awakened  village,  as  every  train  disgorged 
its  Saturday  evening  crowd  of  gamblers  from  the  city 
where  the  lid  had  gone  on  with  ruthless  completeness. 

Mrs.  Granger  had  arisen  from  a  sick-bed  to  call  to 
gether  the  women  of  all  the  churches  to  make  protest 
at  the  licensing  of  another  pool-room,  with  bar  and 

128 


JAP  HERRON  129 

poker  attachment,  not  two  blocks  from  her  home,  a 
stroke  that  had  met  its  counter  stroke  when  the  saloon 
element  threatened  to  boycott  Granger's  bank  and  open 
a  rival  financial  institution  in  one  of  the  store-rooms  of 
the  recently  erected  hotel  that  faced  the  Court  House 
Square,  half  a  block  away.  Another  crowd,  the  men 
with  store-rooms  and  cottages  to  rent,  promised  to 
carry  all  their  banking  business  to  Barton,  if  Granger 
didn't  "sit  on  his  wife  good  and  proper." 

"Never  was  no  such  animal?"  Bill  repeated.  "Wake 
up,  Jap.  Don't  you  know  who  Billy  Wamkiss  is?" 

"Never  heard  of  the  guy,"  Jap  insisted. 

"He's  that  greasy,  wall-eyed  temperance  lecturer 
that's  been  stringing  the  town  for  a  week." 

"Humph !"  Jap  snorted.  "Time  for  you  to  wake  up, 
Bill.  You  brought  in  the  ad  yourself,  and  you  wrote 
the  account  of  the  first  lecture.  The  columns  of  the 
Herald  will  bear  me  out  that  the  reverend  gentleman's 
name  is  Silas  Parsons." 

"Yes,  that's  his  reverend  name,"  Bill  snorted.  "When 
he's  the  advance  agent  of  a  rotgut  whiskey  house  over 
in  Kentucky  that  supplies  fancy  packages  to  all  the 
dry  territory  around  here,  he's  plain  Billy  Wamkiss." 

"Oh,  that's  his  game !"  Jap  sat  up,  his  gray  eyes 
wide  with  astonishment.  "How  did  you  get  next  to 
it?" 

"Your  good  friend,  Wilfred  Jones,  put  me  wise.  He 
didn't  mean  to,  but  he  let  it  slip  out  when  he  wasn't 


130  JAP  HERRON 

watching.  I  ran  into  him  over  in  Barton  this  morning 
and  he  was  roasting  Bloomtown  as  usual.  Said  we  were 
a  bunch  of  Rubes,  to  fall  for  a  raw  proposition  like 
Billy  Wamkiss,  dressed  up  as  a  temperance  lecturer. 
And  then  he  went  on  to  say  that  my  daddy  would  get 
richer'n  he  already  is,  from  his  rake-off  on  the  moisture 
that'll  be  injected  into  the  town  after  she  goes  dry.  He 
said  he  met  Wamkiss  in  Chicago  three  years  ago,  and 
he's  been  doing  a  rattling  business  all  over  the  country 
• — deliver  lectures  on  the  evils  of  the  Demon  Rum  that'd 
bring  tears  to  the  eyes  of  a  potato ;  dry  up  the  terri 
tory,  with  the  help  of  the  churches ;  and  then  fill  up  the 
town  with  drug  stores.  That's  his  program,  and  it's 
going  to  work  here,  thanks  to  my  amiable  and  honor 
able  father." 

Jap  was  silent.  He  had  no  words  with  which  to  ex 
press  his  emotions.  Bill  went  out  on  the  street,  his 
reporter's  pad  under  his  arm.  In  half  an  hour  he  re 
turned. 

"It's  worse — I  mean  more  incriminating — than  I 
thought,  Jap,"  he  said,  as  he  drew  his  partner  into  the 
private  office  and  shut  the  door. 

"Did  you  attend  that  meeting  at  the  Baptist 
Church?"  Jap  asked  anxiously. 

"Yes,  and  I  had  to  dig  out  before  it  was  over.  I 
wanted  to  explode,  and  blow  up  the  whole  bunch  of 
idiots  and  crooks.  Pap  and  Wamkiss,  alias  Parsons, 
have  formed  some  kind  of  a  Templar  lodge,  and  my 


JAP  HERRON  131 

daddy's  got  himself  elected  secretary.  They're  going 
to  dry  up  Bloomtown.  Fancy  it!  They  did  a  lot  of 
crooked  work  over  at  the  Court  House,  so  as  to  make 
it  look  as  if  all  the  licenses  would  expire  at  the  same 
time.  Holmes  is  the  only  one  that's  likely  to  squeal, 
because  he's  paid  his  second  fee,  and  the  others  have 
only  a  few  months  to  run.  They'll  make  it  up  to 
Holmes,  I  reckon,  rather'n  have  him  give  the  snap 
away.  Of  course,  Jap,  I  haven't  got  the  goods  for  any 
of  this.  I  just  put  two  and  two  together  while  I  was 
listening  to  the  speeches,  especially  my  father's  speech." 

"Bill" — Jap  laid  his  hand  on  Bill's  arm — "you  made 
the  mistake  of  your  career  when  you  picked  that  owl 
for  a  daddy.  He  has  made  more  trouble  than  three 
towns  could  stand  up  against.  First,  he  throws  the 
place  wide  open  and  takes  all  the  stray  saloons  and 
gambling  dens  to  his  bosom;  and  just  when  we  have  a 
reputation  for  being  the  toughest  town  on  the  road  and 
doing  a  land-office  business  in  sin,  he  is — he  is  fool 
enough  to  try  to  pull  off  a  stunt  like  this.  What  be 
comes  of  his  plea  for  municipal  revenue  when  he  turns 
saloons  into  drug  stores  ?" 

"Well,  the  lid's  going  on,"  Bill  returned.  "The 
preachers  and  the  ladies  are  strong  for  it,  and  the 
right  honorable  Mayor  announced  that  he  was  the 
Poo  Bah  that  was  going  to  put  up  the  shutters." 

"Better  order  a  granite,"  Jap  muttered,  as  he  re 
turned  to  the  composing  room. 


132  JAP  HERRON 

And  his  prediction  was  well  founded,  for  the  town 
had  become  so  used  to  its  "morning's  morning"  that  it 
fairly  ravened  for  the  blood  of  Mayor  Bowers.  The 
Herald  office  became  a  forum  for  indignant  orators, 
while  the  Mayor  strutted  proudly  up  and  down  Main 
street,  with  the  black-coated  Parsons,  feeling  that  the 
eyes  of  the  world  were  glued  on  him. 

"Parsons  !  Bah !"  spluttered  Kelly  .Tones,  who  had 
driven  four  miles  with  his  empty  jug.  "Ef  the  town 
has  got  any  git-up,  it'll  ride  him  and  that  old  jackass 
of  a  mayor  on  a  rail." 

"Judge  Bowers  is  the  honored  father  of  our  Asso 
ciate  Editor,"  informed  Jap  gravely. 

As  Bill  looked  up  he  thumped  the  galley  he  was  car 
rying  against  the  case  and  pied  the  whole  column. 
After  he  had  said  what  he  thought  about  the  catastro 
phe,  Kelly  grinned  appreciatively. 

"Them's  my  sentiments,  Bill.  Ef  you  love  your 
pappy,  you'd  better  let  him  go,  along  of  Parsons,  'cause 
there's  goin'  to  be  doin's  around  Bloomtown  that'll 
hurt  his  pride.  Parsons !  They  say  out  our  way  that 
his  right  name's  Wamkiss." 

The  turgid  tide  of  popular  sentiment  caused  Mayor 
Bowers  some  uneasiness ;  but  before  anything  could 
happen  five  new  drug  stores  were  opened  for  business 
and  things  moved  placidly  along  again.  Barton  began 
to  refer  to  "our  neighbor,  Bumtown,"  and  it  was  re- 


JAP  HERRON  133 

ported  that  two  blind  tigers  prowled  in  the  environs  of 
the  railroad  station. 

"Bill,"  said  Jap  one  morning,  "this  won't  do.  We'll 
have  to  raise  hell  in  this  town.  This  is  Ellis's  town,  and 
we're  not  going  to  let  a  dod-blinged  mugwump  like 
your  asinine  daddy  ruin  it.  Bill,  if  you  have  got  any 
speech  to  make,  get  ready.  If  you  can't  stand  for  my 
program,  name  your  price,  for  the  Herald  is  going  to 
everlastingly  lambaste  William  Bowers,  Senior." 

"Pull  the  throttle  and  run  'er  wild,"  Bill  retorted, 
as  he  ducked  down  behind  the  press  and  dragged  forth 
a  box  from  the  corner.  "I'm  going  to  get  out  that  last 
lot  of  cuts  that  Ellis  made,"  he  continued.  "Kelly 
Jones  knows  sense.  If  I  remember  right,  Ellis  had 
twenty-five  cuts  of  jacks  for  the  stock  bill.  We  will 
stick  every  blamed  one  of  'em  in  next  week's  issue,  and 
label  'em  Mayor  Bowers.  He  has  killed  the  town  with 
his  ideas.  What  can  we  do  with  him  but  hang  him?" 

When  the  Herald  appeared  the  following  Thursday 
afternoon,  the  town  quit  business  to  read  the  war  cry 
of  Ellis's  boy.  It  was  a  flaming  sword,  hurled  at  the 
Board  of  Aldermen.  Bowers,  foaming  with  wrath, 
stormed  into  the  office. 

"You  take  all  that  back,"  he  yelled,  "or  I'll  put  you 
out  of  this  here  building.  I've  told  you  times  enough 
this  office  belongs  to  me.  I  never  turned  it  over  to 
Ellis." 

Jap  stuck  type,  deadly  calm  on  the  surface  of  his 


134  JAP  HERRON 

being.  Bill  shifted  uneasily,  his  hands  clinched,  his 
ruddy  face  glowing. 

"You  hear  me?"  bawled  the  irate  Mayor. 

Jap  turned  to  consult  his  copy.  Before  the  act 
could  be  imagined  Bowers  had  struck  him  over  the  head 
with  the  revolver  he  dragged  from  his  pocket.  Jap  fell, 
crumpling  to  the  floor,  the  blood  spurting  across  the 
type.  For  an  instant  there  was  horrified  silence.  Then, 
with  a  howl  like  that  of  a  wild  beast,  Bill  threw  himself 
upon  his  father.  But  for  the  intervention  of  Tom 
Granger,  who  had  followed  the  Mayor  because  he 
scented  trouble,  there  would  have  been  a  quick  finish 
to  the  pompous  career  of  Bill  Bowers's  progenitor,  for 
Bill  had  wrested  the  pistol  from  his  father's  hand  and 
was  pressing  it  against  the  temple  of  the  worst  scared 
coward  Bloomtown  had  ever  seen.  There  was  a  sharp 
tussle  between  the  broad-shouldered  banker  and  the 
frenzied  youth.  Several  men  rushed  in  from  the  street. 

"Let  me  go !"  shouted  Bill,  "for  if  he's  killed  Jap  he's 
got  to  die." 

They  were  carrying  Jap  out  of  the  composing  room, 
limp  and  bleeding. 

"Let  him  alone,  Bill,"  Tom  counselled  wisely.  "Let 
your  father  alone,  for  if  Jap  is  dead,  we'll  lynch  him." 

Jap  was  pretty  weak  when  they  brought  the  Mayor's 
resignation  up  from  the  calaboose  for  him  to  read.  A 
representative  delegation  stood  around  his  bed. 

"Let  the  Judge  out,  for  Bill's  sake,"  Jap  said. 


JAP  HERRON  135 

"We'd  better  keep  him  locked  up  for  his  own  sake," 
declared  Tom  Granger.  "For  in  Bill's  present  frame 
of  mind  he's  likely  to  make  an  orphan  of  himself." 

Flossy  came  in  from  the  little  sitting-room  and 
leaned  over  the  bed. 

"I  am  going  to  see  Brother  William,"  she  said  quietly. 
"I  am  going  to  take  Brent  Roberts  with  me.  William 
will  give  you  boys  a  quitclaim  bill  to  this  property,  for 
this  dastardly  deed." 

She  was  an  impersonation  of  righteous  wrath  as  she 
swept  into  the  jail,  followed  by  Bloomtown's  leading 
attorney.  Judge  Bowers  had  said  more  than  once  that 
Flossy  had  a  willing  tongue,  but  its  full  willingness  was 
never  conceived  until  she  descended  upon  him  that  event 
ful  day. 

An  arrangement,  made  by  Ellis  just  before  his  de 
parture,  gave  the  contents  of  the  office  to  the  boys,  on 
regular  payments  to  Flossy.  The  ground  on  which  the 
new  building  stood  had  been  deeded  to  Ellis  and  Flossy 
on  their  wedding  day;  but  the  building,  presumed  to 
be  a  gift  to  Ellis,  had  been  reclaimed  by  Bowers ;  it 
was  held,  however,  as  Bill's  share  in  the  firm.  As  yet 
no  occasion  had  arisen  that  demanded  the  settling  of 
the  question  of  ownership.  Whenever  the  Judge  had 
an  attack  of  bile  he  came  into  the  office  to  remind  Bill 
and  Jap  that  the  building  was  still  his. 

For  one  heated  hour  Flossy  detailed  the  past,  pres 
ent  and  future  of  her  cowering  brother.  When  she  left 


136  JAP  HERRON 

him  he  was  a  wiser,  and  probably  a  sadder,  man,  for 
she  had  deprived  him  of  his  weapon. 

There  was  a  big  bonfire  on  the  circus  grounds,  and 
a  celebration  in  Court  House  Square  that  night.  The 
next  day  there  was  a  great  vacuum  in  the  City  Hall,  for 
the  Board  of  Aldermen  resigned  unanimously.  A  spe 
cial  election  was  called,  and  before  Jap  was  strong 
enough  to  sit  at  his  case  he  had  been  elected  Mayor  of 
Bloomtown. 

He  looked  sadly  from  the  window  of  his  bedroom, 
after  the  joyous  crowd  of  serenaders  that  had  come  to 
congratulate  him.  Bill  had  followed  in  their  wake,  to 
escort  Rosy  home.  It  was  late.  The  clock  in  the  Pres 
byterian  church  spire  chimed  twelve,  as  he  stood  alone. 
He  took  his  hat  from  the  rack  and  went  cautiously 
downstairs.  On  the  pavement  he  paused  a  moment  to 
steady  himself.  His  head  still  reeled  after  any  un 
wonted  exertion.  Then  he  walked  slowly  up  Main 
street,  across  the  railroad  tracks,  and  out  to  the  quiet 
village  whose  inhabitants  slept  'neath  marble  and  sod. 
Standing  beside  the  grave  of  his  first  friend,  he  said: 

"Ellis,  make  the  town  proud  of  your  boy.  Help  me 
to  be  your  right  hand.  If  I  can  only  fulfill  your  plan, 
I  am  willing  that  no  other  ambition  be  fulfilled." 

A  lonely  night  bird  called  softly.  The  willow 
branches  waved  in  the  breeze.  Thick  darkness  hung 
over  the  City  of  the  Dead.  Suddenly  the  moon  peered 


JAP  HERRON  137 

through  the  clouds,  flooding  the  night  with  beauty,  and 
Jap  read  from  the  stone  the  last  message  of  Ellis : 

"I  go,  but  not  as  one  unsatisfied.    In  God's  plan,  my 
work  will  live." 


CHAPTER    XIII 

"Now  that  you've  got  it,  Jap,"  asked  Tom  Granger, 
"what  are  you  going  to  do  with  it?"  Jap  looked 
silently  from  the  door. 

"He  put  in  about  eight  hours  of  thinking  about  that 
himself,"  Bill  averred.  "News  is  that  ten  saloons  are 
loaded  on  freight  cars,  waiting  word  from  Jap." 

"You'll  have  to  strike  a  happy  medium,"  suggested 
Tom.  "I  know  that  you  are  the  boy  to  deliver  the 
goods." 

"Ellis  wasn't  against  saloons,"  commented  Bill,  "so 
Jap  won't  have  that  to  chew  over.  Ellis  wasn't  either 
for  or  against  'em." 

"No,"  Tom  said  seriously,  "Ellis  was  dead  set  against 
hypocrisy.  He  hated  a  liar  and  a  grafter  worse  than 
a  murderer.  He  knew  that  the  way  to  make  people 
want  a  thing  was  to  tell  'em  they  couldn't  have  it." 

Jap's  face  was  grave.  A  panorama  of  wretched  pic 
tures  moved  slowly  before  his  wandering  gaze,  pictures 
that  began  and  ended  in  Mike's  place,  in  the  half-for 
gotten  village  of  Happy  Hollow.  He  aroused  himself 
with  a  start. 

"I'm  going  to  put  it  up  to  the  new  Board  to  allow 
138 


JAP  HERRON  139 

as  many  saloons  as  want  to,  to  come  in,"  he  said  shortly. 

Tom  Granger  let  go  a  shrill  whistle. 

"At  the  license  asked,"  continued  Jap  calmly.  "The 
license  will  be  three  thousand  dollars  a  year,  and  strict 
enforcement  of  all  laws.  At  the  first  break,  the  lid  will 
fall." 

"Jumping  cats !"  howled  Tom.  "Where  will  you  get 
the  saloon  that'll  pay  that?" 

Jap  smiled  wearily.  "I  am  not  hunting  a  saloon  for 
Bloomtown,"  he  said,  and  turned  toward  the  door  in 
time  to  bump  into  Isabel  Granger,  her  arms  full  of  bun 
dles.  She  blushed  and  dimpled  prettily. 

"I  am  looking  for  my  papa,"  she  cried,  pinching 
Tom's  cheek  with  her  one  free  hand.  "I  want  you  to 
carry  these  packages  for  me." 

"Run  along,  pet.     I'm  busy." 

"You  look  it,"  she  reproved.  "I  simply  can't  carry 
all  these  things.  My  arm  is  almost  broken  now,  and 
the  dressmaker  has  to  have  them." 

"Jap  will  tote  them  for  you,"  chuckled  Tom,  watch 
ing  the  blood  rush  over  Jap's  sensitive  face.  To  his 
surprise,  Jap  took  the  bundles  and  walked  out  with 
Isabel.  He  looked  after  them  approvingly. 

"Now  there  goes  the  likeliest  boy  in  the  state,"  he 
declared.  "It's  plumb  funny  the  way  he's  got  of  get 
ting  right  next  to  your  marrow  bones.  I  wish  I  had  a 
boy  like  him." 


140  JAP  HERRON 

"No  great  matter,"  drawled  Bill,  with  tantalizing  in- 
definiteness. 

Tom  looked  up  at  him  quizzically,  as  he  picked  ab 
sently  at  the  pile  of  exchanges.  Something  in  the 
young  man's  tone  piqued  him. 

"If  Jap  wasn't  so  all-fired  conscientious,"  Bill 
blurted,  "you'd  have  a  son,  in  quick  order." 

"Lord!"  exploded  Tom.  "Dunderhead  that  I  am!" 
He  slapped  his  thigh,  and  a  great,  joyous  laugh  set  his 
shoulders  to  heaving.  "Bill,  you're  a  genius  for  spy 
ing  out  mysteries.  How  did  you  get  on  to  it?" 

"Mysteries !"  shouted  Bill.  "Why,  everybody  in 
Bloomtown,  including  Isabel,  knows  that  Jap  is  fairly 
sapheaded  about  her." 

"Well,  what's  hampering  him?"  inquired  Tom. 
"Why  don't  he  confide  in  me?" 

"Confide  your  hat !"  remarked  Bill  crisply.  "Isabel 
will  die  of  old  age  before  Jap  asks  her.  You  see,  he 
is  such  a  durn  fool  that  he  thinks  he  isn't  good  enough 
for  her.  When  the  Lord  made  Jap  Herron  He  made 
a  man,  I  tell  you !" 

"Who  said  He  didn't?"  stormed  Tom.  "I  can't  know 
what  is  in  the  boy's  mind,  can  I?  What  do  you  want 
me  to  do,  kidnap  him  and  get  his  consent?  Bill,  you're 
a  fool.  You  needn't  tell  me  that  Jap  Herron  is  such 
a  mealy-mouth." 

"All  I  know  is  that  he  won't  ask  Isabel,"  Bill  said 
gloomily.  "I'd  like  to  get  married  myself,  but  as  long 


JAP  HERRON  141 

as  Jap  stays  single,  I  stick  too."  And  thinking  of 
Rosy's  blue  eyes,  he  sighed  heavily. 

"It  beats  me,  the  way  young  folks  do.  It  was  dif 
ferent  when  I  went  courting,"  Tom  muttered,  turning 
to  go. 

At  the  door  he  met  Kelly  Jones,  who  had  come  in  to 
inquire  what  Jap  intended  to  do  about  the  "licker" 
business.  He  was  too  busy  with  his  fall  plowing  to  be 
running  over  to  Barton  for  his  jug  of  good  cheer,  and 
he  didn't  like  the  brand  he  could  get  at  Bingham's 
drug  store,  on  Doc  Connor's  prescription.  While  he 
was  still  holding  forth,  Jap  came  in,  with  half-a-dozen 
constituents,  all  busy  with  the  same  problem.  Bill  took 
up  his  notebook  and  wandered  out.  At  Blanke's  drug 
store  he  met  Isabel.  She  motioned  for  him  to  come  back 
in  the  store. 

"What  do  you  want  to  know,  Iz?"  he  asked  with  the 
familiarity  born  of  long  years  of  propinquity.  "Reck 
on  you  want  to  ask  what  everybody  else  wants  to  know 
— when  is  Jap  going  to  get  a  saloon?" 

"You  are  too  smart,  Bill  Bowers,"  she  retorted,  with 
annoyance.  She  had  had  a  subject  of  more  personal 
nature  on  the  tip  of  her  tongue.  "I  think  that  Jap 
will  be  able  to  answer  his  own  questions  without  any 
help  from  you." 

"It  is  to  be  hoped  that  he  will  make  a  better  stagger 
at  answering  than  he  does  at  asking,"  remarked  Bill 
shortly. 


JAP  HERRON 

"Now,  Bill  Bowers,  just  what  do  you  mean?"  she 
demanded,  her  black  eyes  flashing  angrily. 

"What's  the  use?"  said  Bill,  in  disgust.  "Rosy  says 
that  she's  going  to  Kansas  this  fall,  and  I  just  will  have 
to  let  her  go  because  I  can't  ask  her  to  stay." 

"Pity  about  you,"  she  snapped.  "Thought  you  said 
Jap  couldn't  ask." 

"I  did,"  assented  Bill,  "for  if  he  had  gumption 
enough  to  get  married,  or  even  go  courting,  I  might 
get  by.  But  as  long  as  he  sticks  alone  I'm  going  to 
stick,  too." 

Isabel's  face  flamed.  She  stooped  to  pick  up  a  bit 
of  paper. 

"What  do  you  want  to  tell  me  about  it  for?"  she 
complained.  "My  goodness,  I'm  not  to  blame." 

"You  are,"  stormed  Bill.  "Jap  knows  that  he  is  not 
your  equal,  and  he  never  will  marry." 

"Who  said  that  Jap  Herron  was  not  more  than  the 
equal  of  any  man  on  earth?"  she  blazed.  "If  Jap  will 
ask  me,  I'll  marry  him  to-morrow." 

She  whirled  away  in  her  wrath,  and  ran  into  the  arms 
of  Jap  Herron,  standing  half  paralyzed  with  the  won 
der  of  it.  Bill,  who  had  been  watching  the  unconscious 
Jap  approaching  for  several  minutes,  discreetly  with 
drew. 

"Gee !"  he  said,  "but  they  ought  not  to  be  kissing  in 
such  a  public  place." 

There  were   a  dozen   customers   in   the   store,   but 


JAP  HERRON  143 

neither  Jap  nor  Isabel  knew  it.  And  it  is  to  the  credit 
of  Bloomtown  that  they  all  looked  the  other  way,  as 
they  hurriedly  transacted  their  business  and  departed. 
Blanke  declared  afterward  that  he  filled  fifteen  pre 
scriptions  with  epsom  salts  in  his  abstraction,  and  ac 
cidentally  cured  Doc  Horton's  best  paying  patient. 
Moss,  the  paper  hanger,  went  out  with  his  rolls  of 
paper,  and  hung  the  border  on  the  walls,  instead  of 
the  siding.  The  mistakes  reported  were  legion ;  but 
the  town  was  all  courting  Isabel  with  Jap,  at  heart. 

Bill  rambled  into  the  bank  and  suggested  that  Tom 
go  over  to  Blanke's  and  lead  Jap  and  Isabel  out,  as 
Blanke  might  want  to  close  the  store.  Half  an  hour 
later  Tom  came  from  the  drug  store,  with  an  arm 
locked  with  each  of  the  glowing  pair.  Straight  across 
Main  street  they  marched,  and  down  the  shady  walk 
that  flanked  the  little  park  until  they  were  opposite 
the  front  gate  of  the  Granger  home.  Then  they  went 
in  to  break  the  news  to  Isabel's  invalid  mother. 

Flossy  heard  about  it,  almost  before  Jap  had  awak 
ened  to  his  own  joy,  and  he  never  knew  of  the  hour  she 
spent  in  passionate  grief.  In  some  vague  way  it 
seemed  to  tear  open  the  old  wound.  Without  knowing 
why,  she  resented  the  fact  that  Isabel's  brunette  beauty 
had  won  Jap.  She  told  herself  that  it  was  not  a  fitting 
match  for  him.  Flossy,  in  her  maternal  soul,  had 
looked  to  heights  undreamed  of  by  the  retiring  boy. 
She  had  planned  a  future  for  him  that  would  be  sadly 


144  JAP  HERRON 

hampered  by  marriage  with  a  village  belle.  But  only 
smiles  met  him  when  he  brought  Isabel  to  her,  his  plain 
features  glorified  by  joy  in  her  possession. 

Somehow  the  story  of  Jap  Herron,  the  youthful 
Mayor  of  Bloomtown,  his  advent  in  its  environs,  and 
the  story  of  his  romance  with  the  banker's  daughter, 
crept  into  the  country  press,  was  carried  over  into  the 
city  papers  and  flung  broadcast,  so  that  friend  and  foe 
might  seek  him  out.  One  dreary  fall  day,  when  the 
rain  was  beating  sullenly  down  on  the  sodden  leaves,  a 
haggard,  dirty  woman  straggled  into  the  office. 

"I'm  lookin'  for  Jasper  Herron,"  she  mumbled. 
"They  told  me  I'd  find  him  in  here." 

Jap  looked  at  her  in  horror.     His  heart  sank. 

"I  am  his  poor  old  mother,  that  he  run  away  from 
and  left  to  starve,"  she  said  viciously. 

And  Jap,  just  on  the  threshold  of  his  greatest  happi 
ness,  was  turned  aside  by  this  grizzly,  drunken  phantom 
from  the  past. 


CHAPTER    XIV 

LITTLE  J-  W.  crawled  out  from  under  Bill's  case, 
his  brown  eyes  wide  with  surprise  at  this  vagrant  who 
called  Jap  "son." 

"Run  like  sin,"  counselled  Bill,  in  a  whisper,  "and 
bring  your  mother.  She  will  know  what  to  do." 

While  the  boy  went  to  do  his  bidding,  Bill  slipped 
out  of  the  rear  door  of  the  office  and  was  waiting  in 
front  of  the  bank  when  Flossy  came  hurrying  along. 

"Oh,  Bill,  what  has  Jap  said?"  she  asked  breath 
lessly.  From  J.  W.'s  lisping  description — he  always 
lisped  when  he  was  excited — she  had  come  to  fear  the 
worst. 

"Nothing,"  said  Bill  bluntly.  "He's  sitting  at  his 
case,  sticking  type  as  if  he  was  hired  by  the  minute." 

"And  she — that  awful  woman?" 

"Gee !"  Bill  spat  the  word.  "You  don't  know  any 
thing  yet.  Wait  till  you  lamp  her  over." 

"That  bad,  Bill?" 

"Worse,"  muttered  Bill.  And  when  Flossy  came 
inside  and  looked  into  the  little  inner  office  where  the 
woman  sprawled,  half  asleep  and  muttering  incoher 
ently,  the  fumes  of  liquor  and  the  presence  of  filth  all 

145 


146  JAP  HERRON 

too  evident,  her  stomach  rebelled  and  she  retreated 
swiftly.  Softly  she  slipped  into  the  composing  room 
through  the  wide-open  door.  Timidly  she  approached 
Jap  and  touched  his  arm.  He  looked  at  her  with  eyes 
utterly  hopeless. 

"Oh,  Jap,  what  can  I  do?" 

"You  cannot  do  anything,"  his  voice  flat  and  emo 
tionless.  "No  one  can.  Could  you  take  her  in?  No! 
She  is  impossible,  and  yet — she  is  my  mother.  Per 
haps  if  I  had  stayed  with  her  it  would  have  been  dif 
ferent,  so  I  must  make  up  for  it." 

Flossy  looked  into  his  set  face  in  affright. 

"I  am  going  away — with  her."  Jap's  tones  were 
calm.  "You  can  see,  Flossy,  that  it  is  the  only  way. 
I  cannot  be  Mayor  of  Ellis's  town  with  such  a  disgrace 
to  shame  me.  I  must  give  up  Isabel  and — and  the 
Herald." 

Flossy  clung  to  his  arm. 

"Listen  to  me,  Jap  Herron,"  she  cried  shrilly.  "You 
shall  not  do  it !  You  shall  not  let  this  horrible  old 
woman  drag  you  down  in  the  dirt." 

Jap  smiled  sadly. 

"What  could  I  do,  Flossy?  She  must  be  cared  for. 
She  has  been  all  over  town.  Everybody  has  seen  her. 
They  know  the  truth,  that  my  mother  is — what  she  is." 

Suddenly  he  threw  himself  forward  on  the  case  and 
began  to  sob,  such  hard,  racking  sobs  as  might  tear  his 
very  breast.  Flossy  threw  her  arms  around  him  and 


JAP  HERRON  147 

cried  aloud.  Bill  stood  in  the  little  private  office,  look 
ing  down  upon  the  snoring  woman  with  a  murderous 
glare.  He  turned  as  Tom  Granger  came  noiselessly 
from  the  outer  office  and  stood  beside  him.  Grief  was 
in  Granger's  face. 

"I  heard  what  Jap  said  just  now,"  he  whispered, 
"and  he  is  right.  It  would  be  impossible  for  him  to 
stay  with  her  in  the  town.  She  has  ruined  Jap." 

"You're  a  gol-dinged  fool,"  shouted  Bill,  dragging 
him  across  the  big  office  and  out  of  the  front  door. 
"Pretty  sort  of  friend  you  are,  anyway.  I'll  fight  you, 
or  a  half-dozen  like  you,  if  you  murmur  a  word  like  that 
to  Jap." 

He  whirled  as  his  father  ambled  up  the  street,  his 
round  face  wearing  a  grin. 

"What  is  that  greasy  smirk  for?"  demanded  Bill. 
"If  you  have  any  business  in  the  Herald  office,  spit  it 
out." 

"I  knowed  it  would  come  out  sooner  or  later,"  splut 
tered  Bowers,  shifting  his  position  to  avoid  a  pool  in 
the  pavement,  left  by  the  recent  rain.  "With  half  an 
eye,  anybody  could  see  the  mongrel  streak  in " 

He  stopped  as  his  son  advanced  swiftly  toward  him. 

"What  kind  of  a  streak  ?"  he  threatened.  "I  dare  you 
to  say  that  again,  and  hitch  anybody's  name  to  it." 

"Why,  William,"  expostulated  his  father,  "you 
shorely  ain't  goin'  to  have  Jap  and  his  mammy  hitched 
up  to  the  Herald?  Barton  '11  ride  Bloomtown  proper." 


148  JAP  HERRON 

"It  will  give  Jones  a  whack  at  the  Herald"  sug 
gested  Granger  mildly. 

"And  it  will  be  his  last  whack !"  foamed  Bill.  "For 
I'll  finish  him  and  his  filthy  paper  before  I  go  to  the 
pen  for  burning  down  the  Herald  office.  The  day  that 
Jap  Herron  leaves  the  Herald,  there  will  be  the  hell- 
firedest  bonfire  that  Bloomtown  ever  saw!"  His  eyes 
were  blazing.  "Get  away  from  here,"  he  cried  fiercely, 
"you — you  milksop  friends  !" 

He  stopped  as  Isabel,  her  eyes  swollen  from  crying, 
crossed  the  street.  She  had  come  across  the  corner  of 
the  park,  and  her  face  was  white  and  drawn.  Bill 
stepped  up  into  the  doorway  and  awaited  her. 

"I  want  to  speak  to  Jap,"  she  said,  as  he  barred 
the  passage. 

"What  do  you  want  with  him?"  Bill  demanded  trucu 
lently.  "Because  he  is  packing  all  the  load  now  that 
he  can  stand,  and  you  ain't  going  to  add  another  chip 
to  it.  Give  me  your  old  engagement  ring,  and  I'll  pitch 
it  in  the  hell-box.  I  reckon  that's  what  you  came  for." 

She  pushed  him  aside,  her  eyes  blazing  with  wrath. 

"Get  out  of  my  way,  Bill  Bowers.  You  never  did 
have  any  sense.  Let  me  by !" 

She  flung  herself  past  him  and  ran  into  the  compos 
ing  room.  At  sight  of  Flossy,  she  paused.  Flossy 
raised  her  head  from  Jap's  shoulder  and  looked  defi 
antly  at  the  girl,  but  only  for  a  second.  She  knew,  in 
that  glance.  Softly  she  crept  out  as  Isabel,  with  a 


JAP  HERRON  149 

heart-shaking  cry,  ran  to  Jap  and  threw  herself  against 
him. 

"Take  me  in  your  arms,  Jap,"  she  cried  stormily, 
"for  I  love  you." 

Jap  stared  up,  dully,  for  an  instant.  Then,  for 
getting  all  but  love,  he  opened  his  arms  and  clasped  her 
to  his  heart.  Bill  rushed  outside  after  Flossy. 

"I  never  knew  that  she  was  the  real  goods,"  he  said 
remorsefully,  wiping  his  eyes. 

"Get  a  wagon  from  the  grocer,"  Flossy  said,  decisive 
again.  "I  am  going  to  take  her  home  with  me." 

"Meaning  that?"  Bill  flipped  his  thumb  toward 
Jap's  mother. 

"Send  her  up  to  the  house,  and  I  will  have  a  doctor, 
and  some  one  to  bathe  her  and  clean  her  up.  Maybe 
after  she  is  clean  and  sober,  she  won't  be  so  dreadful." 

When  Jap  came  out  of  his  stupor  enough  to  try 
to  put  Isabel  away,  he  discovered  what  Flossy  had 
done.  With  Isabel  clinging  to  him,  he  walked  with 
downcast  head  through  the  streets  that  lay  between  the 
Herald  office  and  Flossy's  cottage. 

His  mother  was  in  bed,  clean  and  yet  disgusting  in 
her  drunken  sleep.  He  forgot  Isabel,  silent  by  his  side, 
as  he  stood  looking  down  upon  the  blotched  and  sunken 
face,  thinking  what  thoughts  God  only  knew.  He 
seemed  years  older  as  he  walked  out  again,  after  the 
doctor  had  told  him  that  nothing  could  be  determined 
until  she  had  slept  the  liquor  off.  Slowly  and  silently 


150  JAP  HERRON 

he  and  Isabel  walked  past  the  row  of  neat  cottages 
until  they  reached  Main  street.  On  the  corner  Jap 
paused. 

"You  must  go  home,  Isabel,"  he  said  brokenly. 
"Sweetheart,  I  understand,  and  I  know  that  you  are 
the  bravest  girl  in  the  world.  But  you  must  leave  me 
now." 

"I  will  not,"  she  declared.  "I  want  you  to  take  me 
right  down  to  the  office  and  send  for  a  license.  I  am 
going  to  marry  you,  and  show  this  town  what  I  think 
of  you!" 

"But  I  cannot  let  you,"  Jap  said  simply.  "I  know — 
you  don't." 

"Then,"  said  Isabel  defiantly,  "I  will  go  back  to 
Flossy's  and  take  care  of  your  mother  until  you  are 
ready  to  talk  sense." 

Jap  looked  at  her  helplessly.  They  were  in  front  of 
Blanke's  drug  store.  Jim  Blanke  stepped  outside  and 
grasped  Jap's  hand.  Isabel  looked  proudly  up  at  him, 
her  arm  drawn  tightly  through  Jap's.  As  they  passed 
down  the  street,  citizens  sprang  up,  apparently  from 
nowhere,  and  clasped  Jap's  hand  in  a  fraternal  grip. 
Isabel  peered  into  his  silent  face.  The  tears  were 
streaming  unheeded  down  his  cheeks.  Her  father 
frowned  as  they  appeared  at  the  door  of  the  bank. 

"Papa,"  she  called  resolutely,  "you  coming  with 
us?" 

He  stood  gnawing  at  his  lips,  his  face  overcast.    An 


JAP  HERRON  151 

instant  he  battled  with  his  pride  and  his  love  for  the 
boy.  Then,  with  his  old  heartiness,  he  clapped  Jap  on 
the  shoulder. 

"Straighten  your  shoulders,  lad.  We're  all  your 
friends  !"  And  the  storm  cloud  lightened. 

All  that  night  Jap  paced  the  floor  of  the  office,  while 
Bill,  too  sympathetic  for  sleep,  tossed  in  the  room  above 
and  swore  at  fate.  It  was  noon  the  next  day  when  little 
J.  W.  came  in  to  say  that  Mrs.  Herron  was  awake  and 
wanted  to  see  her  son. 

She  was  half  sitting  among  the  pillows  when  Jap  en 
tered.  Flossy  had  drawn  the  muslin  curtains,  to  soften 
the  garish  light  as  it  fell  on  her  seamed  and  shame- 
scarred  face.  She  peered  up  at  him  from  blood-shot, 
sunken  eyes. 

"You  look  like  your  pappy's  folks,  Jasper,"  she 
croaked.  "And  they  tell  me  you  air  a  fine,  likely  boy, 
and  follerin'  in  the  trade  of  your  gran'pap.  I  wisht 
that  I  had  a  known  where  you  was,  long  ago.  I  have 
had  a  hard  life,  Jasper.  Your  step-pa  beat  me,  and 
that's  more'n  your  pappy  ever  done.  He  died  of  the 
trimmins,  three  year  ago,  and  I  have  been  wanderin' 
every  since,  huntin'  my  childurn.  But  Aggie's  a  big- 
bug  now,  and  she  drove  me  off.  And  Fanny's  goin' 
to  a  fine  music  school,  and  sent  me  word  that  she'd 
have  me  put  in  a  sanitary  if  I  bothered  her.  She  saw 
a  piece  about  you  in  the  paper,  and  sent  it  to  me.  So 
I  tramped  thirty  mile  to  come." 


152  JAP  HERRON 

Her  face  was  pathetic  in  its  misery.  She  sank  back 
in  the  pillows  and  closed  her  eyes.  Jap  leaned  down 
and  drew  the  covers  tenderly  over  her  arms.  She 
opened  her  eyes,  at  the  touch,  and  looked  up  at  him 
sadly. 

"Thanky,  Jasper,"  she  mumbled.  "You  be-ant 
mad?" 

He  patted  her  cheek  softly,  and  the  sunken  eyes 
lighted  with  a  smile  of  weary  contentment.  Then  the 
lids  fluttered,  like  the  last  effort  of  a  spent  candle,  and 
she  slept.  Like  one  in  the  maze  of  a  vague,  uncertain 
dream,  Jap  went  back  to  the  office.  Unconsciously  he 
took  the  familiar  way,  through  the  alley.  Automatic 
ally  he  climbed  to  his  stool  and  began  setting  up  the 
editorial  that  had  been  interrupted  by  his  mother's  com 
ing  the  previous  day. 

At  sunset  Bill  touched  his  shoulder  softly.  Jap 
raised  his  head  from  his  hands. 

"Your — your  mother  never  woke  up  after  you  left 
her,  Jap,"  he  said  huskily. 


CHAPTER  XV 

BILL,  looked  up  as  a  long,  lank  form  glided  surrep 
titiously  into  the  office. 

"Been  a  long  time  since  you  drifted  our  way,"  he 
commented,  as  the  form  resolved  itself  into  the  six-foot 
length  of  Kelly  Jones. 

"Might'  nigh  three  month,"  averred  Kelly  grimly. 
"I've  been  tradin'  over  at  Barton.  Couldn't  stand 
for  Jap's  damfoolishness.  Had  to  buy  my  licker  there, 
and  just  traded  there.  It's  twelve  mile  from  my  farm 
to  Barton,  and  four  mile  to  Bloomtown.  Spring's 
comin'  on,  and  work  to  do.  I  hate  to  take  that  trip 
every  time  the  wife  needs  a  spool  o'  thread.  Did  you 
get  my  letter,  sayin'  to  stop  the  paper?" 

"Stopped  it,  didn't  we?"  queried  Bill  crisply,  scat 
tering  the  type  from  the  financial  report  of  Bloomtown 
into  the  case. 

"Yes,"  assented  Kelly,  "you  did.  What'd  you  do 
it  for?" 

"Not  forcing  the  Herald  on  anybody,"  announced 
Bill  glibly.  "Got  past  that.  We  used  to  hold  'em 
up  and  feed  the  Herald  to  them,  but  we  don't  have  to 
do  it  now." 

153 


154  JAP  HERRON 

"I  hear  tell  that  Jap  made  Tim  Simpson  night  mar 
shal.  Why,  he  run  a  blind  tiger  beyond  the  water 
tank,"  exclaimed  Kelly.  "I  reckon  Jap  didn't  know 
that." 

"Just  because  he  did  know  it,  he  made  Tim  night 
marshal,"  declared  Bill,  flinging  the  last  type  into 
the  box  and  descending  from  the  stool.  "Just  you 
stroll  down  the  tracks  in  either  direction,  and  see  if 
you  can  find  a  whisker  or  a  tawny  hair  from  the  tip 
of  any  tiger's  tail  lying  loose  along  the  way.  Jap 
knows  several  things,  Kelly,  my  boy,  and  he  is  fighting 
fire  with  fire.  Tim  Simpson  understands  the  opera 
tions  of  the  kind  of  menagerie  that  usually  flourishes 
in  a  dry  town,  and  Jap  put  him  on  his  honor.  He's 
so  conscientious  that  he  goes  over  to  Barton  to  get 
full.  He  won't  drink  it  here.  He's  got  pride  in  making 
Bloomtown  the  whitest  town  in  the  state.  But  explain 
the  return  of  the  prodigal.  How  come  your  feet  in  our 
dust  again?" 

"Well,"  said  Kelly  shamefacedly,  "the  wife  said  that 
I  was  a  durn  fool.  I  stopped  the  Herald  and  sub 
scribed  for  the  Standard — and  a  pretty  standard  it  is ! 
While  Jap  Herron  was  cleanin'  up,  it  was  slingin'  muck 
at  him.  The  wife  read  it,  and  one  day  she  goes  up  to 
Barton  and  starts  an  argument  with  Jones.  I  reckon 
she  had  the  last  word.  If  she  didn't,  it  was  the  fu'st 
time.  She  come  home  so  rip-snortin'  mad  that  she 
threatened  to  lick  me  if  I  didn't  tackle  Jones.  Well, 


JAP  HERRON  155 

to  keep  peace  in  the  family,  I  run  in  to  see  him  the 
next  time  I  went  to  Barton.  Well,  Jones  put  it  up  to 
me,  if  Jap  was  doin'  much  for  Bloomtown  in  havin' 
unlicensed  drug  stores,  instid  of  regular  saloons." 

"Sure  sign  that  you  don't  know  the  news,"  said 
Bill,  unfolding  a  copy  of  the  Herald.  "Since  last  Sat 
urday  night  there  has  been  only  one  drug  store  in 
Bloomtown.  That's  Blanke's,  and  Jim  Blanke  wouldn't 
sell  liquor  on  anybody's  prescription  but  Doc  Hall's, 
and  Doc  Hall  would  let  you  die  of  snake-bite,  if  noth 
ing  but  whiskey  would  cure  you.  Any  other  drug 
stores  that  may  open  up  in  this  town  '11  have  to  pattern 
after  Blanke's  or  out  they  go." 

Kelly  took  the  paper  up  and  scanned  its  columns. 
He  snorted. 

"Well,  I  do  declare !  I  see  that  might'  nigh  all  the 
doctors  have  packed  up  and  are  threatenin'  to  leave 
town.  Well,  there  wa'n't  enough  doctorin'  to  keep 
twenty  of  'em  in  cash  nohow." 

"You  ought  to  have  heard  Jap's  speech  when  they 
were  putting  a  plea  for  local  option,"  said  Bill.  "My 
pap  has  carried  a  sore  ear  against  Jap's  reign  ever 
since  he  was  elected  to  fill  out  that  unexpired  term, 
and  he  stirred  up  a  lot  of  bellyaches  among  the  guz 
zlers.  It  was  a  sickening  mess,  because  the  whole  town 
knows  that  my  daddy  can't  stand  even  the  smell  of 
liquor.  It  wouldn't  be  so  bad — so  hypocritical,  if  he 
really  liked  it  and  was  used  to  it.  As  I  was  telling  you, 


156  JAP  HERRON 

he  and  the  old  booze  gang  had  been  burning  the  mid 
night  dip  to  plan  a  crimp  for  Mayor  Herron,  when 
that  local  option  idea  struck  him.  Well,  Jap  got  up 
and  made  a  speech,  calling  their  attention  to  the  bonds 
we  voted,  and  the  sound  financial  condition  back  of 
those  bonds ;  the  granitoid  pavement  on  Main  street, 
the  electric  light  plant  that's  going  up,  and  the  water 
works,  and  sewers  that  are  under  way — all  managed 
since  the  town  went  dry.  Then  he  nominated  Tom 
Granger  for  mayor,  and  what  do  you  reckon  they  did?" 

"Seem'  as  how  he  ain't  mayor,"  said  Kelly,  with  a 
twinkle,  "I  allow  they  done  nothinV 

"Why,"  said  Bill,  his  brown  eyes  kindling,  "they 
arose  as  one  man  and  yelled,  'We  want  Jap  Herron !' 
and  that  settled  it." 

The  farmer  stood  in  the  middle  of  the  office,  his  arms 
gesticulating  and  his  head  bobbing  with  animation,  as 
Jap  hurried  in.  He  gazed  at  the  back  of  Kelly's  fa 
miliar  slicker  incredulously. 

"What!"  he  hailed  joyously,  "our  old  friend  of  the 
sorghum  barrel!  Where  have  you  been  hibernating? 
Surely  a  cure  for  sore  eyes,"  and  Jap  seized  his  shoul 
der  and  whirled  him  around  so  that  he  could  grasp  his 
hand. 

"Chipmunking  in  Barton,"  prompted  Bill.  "This 
sadly  misguided  farmer  has  been  lost  but  now  is  found." 

"The  Missus  sent  a  package  to  Mis'  Flossy.  You 
and  Bill  '11  eat  it,  I  reckon,"  and  he  produced  a  parcel 


JAP  HERRON  157 

from  his  pocket.  "She  said  if  Ellis  was  here,  he'd 
appreciate  it.  It's  sausage  that  she  made  herself.  And 
— and  she  sent  a  dollar  for  the  paper.  She  wants  the 
Herald." 

"And  what  about  Kelly?"  Jap  asked,  a  wave  of  mem 
ory  sweeping  over  him. 

"Just  you  write  it  down  that  Kelly  Jones  is  a  yaller 
pup,"  said  Kelly  morosely. 

"Never!"  declared  Jap  heartily.  "Misled,  perhaps, 
but  with  a  heart  of  gold." 

Kelly  groped  for  his  handkerchief. 

"I've  got  on  the  water  wagon,  Jap,"  he  sniffled.  "I 
reckon  I  kin  get  along  without  the  stuff.  Sary  hid 
my  jug,  and  I  done  'thout  it  for  a  week,  and  I  felt  fine. 
I  am  goin'  to  make  a  stagger  at  it,  if  I  do  fall  down." 

Jap  pushed  him  into  a  chair. 

"Why,  you  old  rascal,"  he  cried,  "you  have  backbone 
enough  to  do  anything  you  will  to  do.  Move  into  town 
and  help  us  turn  the  wheels." 

Kelly  wiped  his  nose  on  the  tail  of  his  slicker  as  he 
started  for  the  door. 

"Don't  happen  to  need  any  'lasses,  do  you?"  he 
grinned. 

Jap  flung  an  empty  ink  bottle  after  him.  When 
quiet  had  returned  to  the  office,  he  said,  as  he  hung 
his  hat  on  the  nail: 

"Isabel  wants  to  learn  to  stick  type." 

"Funny,"  said  Bill  shortly,  "so  does  Rosy,  and  they 


158  JAP  HERRON 

hate  each  other  like  Pap  hates  beer.  Pretty  mix-up 
we'll  have  on  our  hands." 

"That's  all  nonsense,  Bill.  Rosy  can't  help  liking 
Isabel." 

Bill  scanned  the  copy  on  his  hook,  his  eyes  narrow 
ing. 

"Appears  like  she  can,"  he  muttered. 

"Now,  Bill,  this  won't  do,"  argued  Jap  earnestly. 
"We  can't  afford  to  have  dissension  in  such  a  vital 
matter.  You  must  talk  to  Rosy." 

"You  can  have  the  job,"  waived  Bill,  picking  up  a 
type.  "Isabel  said  that  Rosy  was  shallow  and  only 
skin-deep,  and  Rosy  heard  about  it.  Isabel  Granger 
is  not  so  much — 

He  stopped  abruptly  as  Jap's  hand  went  up  in 
pained  alarm. 

"Look  here,  Bill,  are  we  going  to  let  the  chatter  of 
women  come  between  us  ?  There  is  something  deeper 
holding  us  together  than  the  friendship  of  a  day.  Give 
me  your  hand,  Bill,  and  tell  me  that  it  is  Ellis's  work 
and  not  these  trifles  that  you  care  for.  We  have  a  work 
to  do,  you  and  I." 

Bill  threw  the  stick  upon  the  case  and  grasped  Jap's 
outstretched  hand.  Tears  glistened  in  his  eyes. 

"Better  than  all  the  loves  in  the  world,  I  love  you, 
Jap,"  he  stormed.  Jerking  his  hat  from  the  nail,  he 
strode  out  to  walk  off  the  emotionalism  he  decried. 

That  afternoon  he  strove  manfully  to  show  Isabel 


JAP  HERRON  159 

how  to  put  type  in  the  stick  upside  down,  and  to  save 
her  feelings  he  stealthily  corrected  her  faulty  work, 
suppressing  a  grin  at  Jap's  pride  in  her  first  attempt. 
Bill  shook  his  head  sadly  as  they  strolled  out  together, 
Jap's  eyes  drinking  in  the  girl's  slender  beauty. 

"Petticoat  government  '11  get  old  Jap  tripped  up," 
ne  complained  to  the  office  cat.  "And  then  where'll 
I  be?  When  Jap  marries  I'll  play  second  fiddle.  Come 
seven,  come  'leven!"  and  he  snapped  his  fingers  in  the 
air. 


CHAPTER  XVI 

THE  sun  was  streaming  through  the  east  windows. 
Jap  looked  anxiously  up  and  down  the  street.  Bill  had 
not  been  home  all  night.  This  was  a  state  of  affairs 
alarming  to  Jap.  He  walked  back  to  the  table  and 
turned  the  exchanges  over  restlessly. 

"I  wonder  if  the  boy  could  have  persuaded  that  but 
terfly  to  elope  with  him,  as  he  threatened  he  would, 
when  her  mother  cut  up  so  rough,"  he  worried. 

Tim  Simpson  came  in  and  peered  around  furtively. 

"Bill  is  drunk  as  a  lord,"  he  announced  in  a  stage 
whisper.  "I've  got  him  in  the  back  room  of  the  cala 
boose,  to  sober  up  without  the  news  leakin'." 

Jap  paled. 

"Bill  drunk?"  he  faltered.  "Who  got  him  into  it? 
Is  he  asleep,  Tim?" 

"Lord,  no !  If  he  was,  I  would  'a'  left  him  out 
when  he  come  to,  and  said  no  word  to  you  about  it. 
But  I'm  plum  scared  about  him.  He's  chargin'  up  and 
down  like  a  Barnum  lion.  I  reckon  as  how  you'd  better 
mosey  down  there  and  try  to  ca'm  him." 

As  Jap  walked  rapidly  down  the  alley  beside  the 
night  marshal,  he  asked: 

160 


JAP  HERRON  161 

"Did  you  try  to  talk  to  him?" 

"Yes,"  said  Simpson  ruefully.  "He  kicked  me  out 
and  was  chasin'  after  me  when  I  slammed  the  door  on 
him.  He's  blind  crazy  loaded.  I  fu'st  seen  him  after 
number  nine  pulled  in,  so  I  think  he  come  on  her.  He 
was  mutterin'  and  shakin'  his  fist  when  he  hove  in  sight. 
I  got  him  and  steered  him  into  the  jug  without  much 
trouble,  and  it  was  only  a  hour  ago  that  he  started 
this  ragin'  and  ravin'." 

As  they  entered  the  jail,  sounds  of  tramping  feet 
and  mutterings  reached  their  ears.  Bill's  swollen, 
blotched  face  and  reddened  eyes  appeared  behind  the 
grating. 

"Let  me  out  of  here!"  he  shouted.  "You'll  get  a 
broken  head  for  this,  you  old  mule."  He  shook  the 
grating  furiously. 

"Bill,"  said  Jap  slowly,  "do  you  want  to  come  with 
me,  or  do  you  want  me  to  stay  here  with  you  till  you've 
had  a  bath  and  a  good  sleep?" 

Bill  laughed  discordantly. 

"A  sleep !  A  sleep !"  he  cried.  "Yes,  a  long,  long 
sleep.  As  soon  as  you  take  me  out  of  this  hell-hole,  I'll 
take  a  sleep  that'll  last." 

Jap  opened  the  door  and  stepped  inside. 

"Don't  come  any  nearer,"  warned  Bill.  "I'm  too 
filthy,  Jap.  But  let  me  stay  as  I  am  till  it's  over." 

He  sat  down  on  the  cot  and  stared  crazily  into  the 


162  JAP  HERRON 

corridor.  Jap  sat  down  beside  him  and  drew  his  arm 
around  his  shoulder,  with  the  tenderness  of  a  woman. 

"Tell  me  about  it,  Bill,  boy,"  he  counselled  gently. 
"Tim,  you  may  leave  us." 

Bill  sat  a  long  time,  staring  sullenly  at  the  floor. 

"Well,  this  is  a  hell  of  a  display  for  me  to  bring  to 
Bloomtown,"  he  declared  at  last.  "I  should  have  ended 
it  in  Jones's  town.  If  I  hadn't  been  so  dumb  with  rot- 
gut  that  I  didn't  know  what  I  was  doing,  I  would  be 
furnishing  some  excitement  for  the  Bartonites  this 
morning.  The  finest  place  in  the  world  to  die  in — it 
isn't  fit  to  live  in." 

Jap  shook  him  briskly. 

"Straighten  up,  Bill,  and  tell  me  what  kind  of  a 
mess  you  have  been  in." 

Bill  laughed  wildly.  After  a  moment  he  dragged  a 
letter  from  his  pocket.  Jap  read: 

"When  you  read  this,  I  will  be  the  wife  of  Wilfred 
Jones,  the  Editor  of  the  Barton  Standard.  Maybe  you 
will  be  pleased?  I  prefer  to  marry  a  real  editor,  not 
the  half  of  Jap  Herron." 

The  letter  was  signed,  "Rosalie,"  but  the  affectation 
carried  none  of  the  elements  of  a  disguise.  To  Jap  it 
was  the  crowning  insult.  Crushing  the  silly  note  in  his 
hand,  he  threw  it  from  him.  Standing  up,  he  drew  Bill 
to  his  feet. 

"We  are  going  home,"  he  said  curtly.     "When  you 


JAP  HERRON  163 

are  sober  I  will  tell  you  how  disappointed  I  am  in  my 
brother." 

The  news  that  Bill  had  been  jilted  spread  over 
Bloomtown  like  fire  in  a  stubble-field,  and  deep  resent 
ment  greeted  the  announcement  that  Jones  of  the 
Standard  had  scored  another  notch  against  the  Her 
ald. 

Bill,  sullen  and  defiant,  had  battled  it  out  in  the 
room  above  the  office.  All  the  vagaries  of  a  sick  mind 
were  his.  Murder,  suicide,  mysterious  disappearance, 
chased  each  other  across  the  field  of  his  vision,  and 
ever  the  specter  of  suicide  returned  to  grin  at  him. 
For  a  day  and  a  night  Jap  sat  beside  his  bed,  talking, 
soothing,  comforting.  Finally  he  made  this  compact: 

"To  show  you  that  I  love  you  better  than  myself, 
Bill,  I  am  going  to  promise  that  I  will  not  marry  until 
you  are  cured  of  this  blow.  Not  a  word,  Bill!  Hap 
piness  would  turn  to  ashes  if  I  accepted  it  at  your  cost. 
How  far  I  am  to  blame  in  your  trouble,  I  can  only 
guess.  I  am  not  going  to  preach  philosophy.  I  am 
only  going  to  plead  my  love  for  you." 

He  took  the  revolver  from  the  drawer  and  laid  it  on 
the  table  beside  Bill. 

"If  you  are  the  boy  I  think  you  are,  you  will  be  stick 
ing  type  when  I  come  back  from  Flossy's.  If  you  are  a 
coward,  I  will  not  grieve  to  find  you  have  taken  the  soul 
that  God  gave  you  and  flung  it  at  His  feet." 

Not  trusting  himself  to  look  back,  he  hurried  down 


164  JAP  HERRON 

the  stairs.  His  heart  was  heavy  with  dread  as  he  locked 
the  office  and  walked  blindly  to  the  cottage  where  all 
his  problems  had  been  carried.  He  could  not  talk  to 
Flossy,  but,  sitting  beside  her  on  the  little  front  porch, 
he  fought  the  mad  impulse  to  run  back  to  the  office. 
He  strained  his  ears  for  the  sound  that  he  was  praying 
not  to  hear. 

Two  hours  he  sat  there,  fighting  with  his  fears,  the 
longest  hours  of  his  life.  Flossy  sat  as  silent.  No  one 
knew  Jap  as  Flossy  did.  Smoothing  his  tumbled  hair 
and  stroking  his  tightly  clenched  hands  were  her  only 
expressions.  Futile  indeed  would  words  be  now.  The 
tragedy  that  hovered  over  them  both  must  work  itself 
out. 

A  whistle  shrilled  from  the  road.  Jap  sprang  up 
with  a  strangled  cry,  as  Wat  Harlow  came  through 
the  gate.  His  face  was  stern. 

"Bill  allowed  that  this  is  where  I'd  find  you,  chat 
ting  your  valuable  time  away,"  he  chaffed.  Then  the 
mask  of  his  countenance  broke  into  a  grin. 

"Is  Bill  in  the  office?"  Jap's  lips  were  so  stiff  he  could 
scarcely  articulate. 

"Sure  he  is,"  said  Harlow  cheerfully.  "He  wants 
you  to  ramble  down  there." 

"There's  a  hen  on,  Jap,"  he  confided,  after  they  had 
taken  leave  of  Flossy.  "We'll  try  to  hatch  something 
this  time.  I'm  going  to  get  in  the  game  again.  You 


JAP  HERRON  165 

know  the  old  saying:  'You  musn't  keep  a  good  dog 
chained  up.'  ' 

"Well?"  queried  Jap,  his  thoughts  springing  space 
and  picturing  what  Bill  might  be  doing.  Wat  was 
discreetly  silent  until  they  had  passed  through  town 
and  were  inside  the  office.  Bill,  pale  and  haggard, 
looked  up  from  his  desk.  He  extended  the  paper  he  was 
writing  on.  Jap  took  it  without  a  word. 

"WAT  HARLOW  FOR  GOVERNOR  !" 

"How's  that  for  a  head?"  he  demanded.  "If  we're 
going  into  this  thing,  we  might  as  well  go  with  both 
feet." 

He  looked  into  Jap's  face.  Their  eyes  met.  With 
one  voice  they  cried: 

"Ellis !" 

"  'WThen  Harlow  runs  for  governor,'  "  Jap  quoted 
tremulously,  "  'you  will  boom  him.  Till  then,  nothing 
doing  in  the  Halls  of  Justice.'  Bill,  Ellis  was  a  prophet. 
He  even  knew  that  he  wouldn't  be  in  the  game.  Wat, 
we'll  put  you  across  this  time." 

"Yes,  and  it'll  be  a  nasty  fight,"  Wat  returned,  as 
Bill  leaned  over  and  picked  nervously  at  the  ears  of 
the  office  cat.  "We've  got  Bronson  Jones  to  buck  up 
against,  in  all  political  probability.  He's  almost  sure 
of  the  nomination." 

"Just  who  is  Bronson  Jones?"  Jap  asked.  "Seems 
to  me  I  ought  to  place  him.  He's  been  in  the  papers 


166  JAP  HERRON 

down  in  the  southwestern  part  of  the  state   a  good 
deal." 

"Pie's  the  smooth  proposition  that  came  back  here  a 
couple  of  years  ago  and  bought  back  his  old  newspaper 
for  his  son  and  has  managed  up  to  the  present  time  to 
keep  his  own  name  discreetly  out  of  that  same  paper," 
vouchsafed  Harlow.  "He  won't  let  it  leak  out  till  the 
psychological  moment.  He's  the  daddy  of  the  split- 
hoofed  imp  of  Satan  that  runs  the  Barton  Standard!" 


CHAPTER  XVII 

JAP  threw  his  pencil  impatiently  on  the  desk. 

"I  can't  get  my  thoughts  running  clear  this 
morning,"  he  said  abruptly.  "Every  time  I  try  to 
write,  the  pale  face  of  little  J.  W.  comes  between  me 
and  the  page." 

"They're  back  from  the  city,"  Bill  said  uneasily. 
"I  saw  them  coming  from  the  train.  I  fully  meant  to 
tell  you,  Jap." 

"I  hope  the  specialist  has  quieted  Flossy's  fears." 
Jap  ran  his  fingers  through  his  loose  red  locks.  "The 
boy  is  growing  too  fast.  Why,  look  at  the  way  he  has 
shot  up  in  the  last  year.  Ellis  told  me  that  he  ran  up 
like  a  bean  pole,  the  way  I  did,  and  just  as  thin.  J.  W. 
is  exactly  like  him." 

"And  Ellis  died  at  forty " 

"Don't,  Bill,"  Jap  choked.  "I  can't  bear  it."  He 
walked  to  the  door  and  gazed  out  into  the  hazy  silver 
autumn  air. 

"This  weather  is  like  wine,"  he  declared.  "It  will 
set  the  boy  up,  fine  as  a  fiddle.  You  must  remember, 
Bill,  that  Ellis  impoverished  his  system  by  the  life  of 
hardship  he  was  forced  to  endure  while  the  town  was 

167 


168  JAP  HERRON 

growing.  The  things  he  used  to  tell  were  humorous 
enough,  the  droll  way  he  had  of  telling  them.  But  they 
break  our  hearts  when  we  think  of  them  now,  and  know 
that  it  was  that  privation  that  killed  him.  It  was  bad 
enough  here  when  I  was  a  youngster,  and  that  was  lux 
ury  to  what  he  had  had.  J.  W.  has  not  had  such  a 
handicap.  Of  course  he  was  a  delicate  baby,  but  he 
certainly  outgrew  all  that." 

Bill  was  discreetly  silent.  He  knew  that  Jap  was 
only  arguing  with  his  fears.  In  the  early  summer,  J. 
W.  had  been  acutely  ill,  and  as  the  heat  progressed,  he 
languished  with  headache  and  fever.  In  the  end,  Dr. 
Hall  had  counselled  taking  him  to  a  noted  specialist  in 
the  city. 

"Better  take  a  run  up  to  Flossy's,"  Bill  suggested. 
"You'll  be  better  satisfied." 

Jap  took  a  copy  of  the  Herald  from  the  table  and 
went  out.  All  the  way  along  Spring  street  he  strove 
with  his  anxiety.  Flossy  met  him  on  the  porch.  One 
glance  was  enough  for  Jap.  He  sat  down,  helpless,  on 
the  lower  step. 

"J.  W.  is  tired  out  and  asleep,"  said  Flossy  softly. 
"Come  with  me,  Jap,  down  to  the  arbor.  You  remem 
ber  the  day  that  Ellis  told  you  the  truth  about  him 
self?" 

Jap  followed  her  beneath  the  grape  trellis,  stumbling 
clumsily.  When  they  reached  the  arbor,  with  its  bench 
and  rustic  table,  she  faced  him,  slender  to  attenuation. 


JAP  HERRON  169 

"Jap,"  she  said  brokenly,  "J.  W.  has  tuberculosis  in 
the  worst  form.  His  entire  body  is  filled  with  it.  He 
contracted  it  while  we  were  with  Ellis — and  we  never 
knew,  never  suspected —  Her  voice  broke.  "Not 

even  a  miracle  can  prolong  his  life  longer  than  spring. 
The  doctors  insisted  on  examining  me,  too.  They  say 
I  have  it,  in  incipiency,  and  my  only  chance  of  escape 
is  to  leave  my  boy  to  the  care  of  others.  Under  the 
right  conditions  they  say  I  have  a  fighting  chance." 

"You  are  sure  that  you  have  every  advice?"  Jap's 
voice  was  so  hoarse  that  she  looked  up  at  him  in  alarm. 

"Yes,  Jap,  but  I  knew  it  before.  Months  ago,  even 
before  he  was  so  sick  in  the  summer,  I  had  a  dream, 
and  this  was  my  dream:  Ellis,  with  that  beautiful 
smile  that  every  one  loved,  was  waiting  out  there  at 
the  gate,  and  I  was  hurrying  to  get  the  boy  ready  to 
go  with  him.  I  knew,  when  I  awoke,  that  he  was  ready 
to  wait  our  boy's  coming.  Oh,  Jap,  do  you  think  that 
smile  was  for  me,  too?" 

The  look  of  agony  in  Jap's  sensitive  face  was  more 
than  she  could  bear.  She  clutched  his  arm. 

"Oh,  Jap,  pray — help  me  to  pray  that  he  was  wait 
ing  for  me,  too.  The  time  has  been  so  long.  I  want  to 
be  with  my  boy  to  the  last.  You  understand,  Jap.  I 
don't  believe  that  words  are  needed." 

He  put  his  arms  around  her.  He  could  not  speak, 
but  his  head  bent  above  hers  and  the  hot  tears  dropped 
upon  her  brown  hair,  now  streaked  with  gray. 


170  JAP  HERRON 

"I  have  done  the  work  he  wanted  me  to  do,"  she 
sobbed.  "He  wanted  me  to  be  a  mother  until  you 
were  on  the  plane  he  had  planned.  Like  the  butterfly 
whose  day  is  done,  Jap,  I  would  go.  I  am  so  tired,  and 
— boy,  I  have  never  ceased  to  long  for  Ellis.  The  world 
could  not  supply  another  soul  like  his." 

"Flossy,"  Jap  said  in  smothered  tones,  "I  know.  I 
have  walked  the  floor  for  hours,  missing  him  until  I 
was  almost  frantic.  But,  little  Mother,  what  is  left  to 
me  if  you  go?  Without  you,  I  am  drifting  again." 

"I  would  fear  that,  if  I  had  never  seen  into  the  deeps 
of  Isabel's  nature.  And  to  think  that  I  once  decried — 
but  I  didn't  understand,  Jap.  When  your  mother 
came,  there  was  a  revelation.  I  don't  fear  for  your 
future  now.  And  when  I  knew  this,  I  suddenly  felt 
tired  and  old.  I  pray  not  to  survive  my  boy." 

The  following  morning  brought  the  first  fall  rain. 
And  then,  for  endless  weeks,  the  leaden  sky  drooped 
over  the  world.  Dreary  depression  and  the  penetrating 
chill  of  approaching  winter  filled  the  air.  Only  the  un 
wonted  pressure  of  work  kept  the  boys  from  brooding 
over  the  inevitable  that  would  come  with  the  spring 
time.  To  relieve  Flossy  of  all  unnecessary  burdens, 
Jap  and  Bill  went  to  the  hotel  for  their  meals,  but 
every  evening  one  or  the  other  went  to  sit  with  her. 
At  length  there  came  a  time,  late  in  November,  when 


JAP  HERRON  171 

the  office  work  was  more  than  both  of  them  could  handle, 
and  for  several  days  the  visits  were  interrupted. 

"Flossy  is  sick,"  announced  Bill,  hanging  his  drip 
ping  raincoat  behind  the  door.  "I  saw  Pap  just  now, 
and  he  told  me.  He  and  his  wife  were  there  all  night. 
He  says  that  J.  W.  has  been  so  bad  off  for  a  week,  has 
had  such  bad  spells  at  night,  that  Flossy  has  hardly 
slept,  and  yesterday  she  broke  down  and  sent  for  Pap. 
He  took  Doc  Hall  along,  and  they  are  afraid  she  has 
pneumonia." 

Jap  threw  his  paper  aside. 

"Why  didn't  we  know  that  J.  W.  was  worse?"  he 
demanded.  "I  sent  some  one  to  inquire  every  morn 
ing  while  we  had  the  big  rush  on,  and  Flossy  said  that 
they  were  all  right.  I  thought  that  she  was  going  to 
take  him  to  the  mountains." 

"I  guess  that  she  didn't  know  how  sick  he  was,"  com 
mented  Bill.  "Pap  was  to  haul  the  trunks  to-morrow, 
as  Flossy  told  us.  She  wanted  to  start  on  Sunday  so 
that  you  and  I  could  go  as  far  as  Cliffton  with  her. 
She  knew  we  were  working  overtime  to  get  things 
cleaned  up." 

Jap  put  on  his  raincoat,  for  it  was  pouring  a  deluge. 

"I  will  not  be  back  if  Flossy  needs  me,"  he  said. 

For  three  days  and  nights  he  hovered  over  the  two 
sick-beds,  while  the  wind  soughed  mournfully  around 
the  cottage,  and  the  rain  dripped,  dripped,  dripped, 
like  tears  against  the  wall  outside.  Neighbors  and 


172  JAP  HERRON 

friends  volunteered  their  services.  Bill  and  Isabel  came 
as  often  as  was  possible;  but  when  all  the  others  had 
gone,  Jap  kept  his  solemn  vigil  alone.  On  the  after 
noon  of  the  fourth  day,  there  was  a  sudden  turn  for 
the  worse.  Dr.  Hall  was  hastily  summoned.  And  then, 
all  at  once,  without  any  seeming  warning,  it  happened. 

The  last  gasping  breath  faded  from  the  body  of  El- 
lis's  child,  and  as  Jap  leaned  over  to  close  the  wide, 
staring  eyes,  he  could  hear  the  rasping  breaths  that 
rent  Flossy's  bosom,  as  she  lay  unconscious  in  the  next 
room. 

"With  God's  help  we  may  pull  her  through,"  whis 
pered  Isabel,  twining  her  arms  around  his  neck.  He 
turned  stony  eyes  of  grief  upon  her. 

"If  God  helps,  He  will  let  her  go  with  J.  W.  to  meet 
Ellis,"  he  said  in  a  voice  strained  to  breaking. 

He  drew  the  girl  from  the  chamber  of  death,  and 
sat  down  beside  Flossy's  bed.  He  caught  one  flutter 
ing,  fever-burned  hand  in  his,  and  the  restless  mutter 
ing  ceased.  Then  the  eyes  opened.  They  seemed  to  be 
looking  not  at  Jap  but  above  him. 

"Ellis !"  she  cried,  and  slept. 

"When  she  awakes,  she  will  be  better  or "  Dr. 

Hall  broke  off,  and  went  over  to  the  window.  "It's  the 
crisis,"  he  finished  huskily. 

Flossy,  in  her  quiet,  optimistic  bravery,  had  made 
her  place  in  the  hearts  of  her  townspeople.  Isabel  knelt 
beside  her,  watching  Jap's  face,  with  its  unnatural 


JAP  HERRON  173 

calm,  fearfully.  She  dared  not  speak.  Bill  stood  awk 
wardly  at  the  foot  of  the  bed,  his  cap  twirling  uncer 
tainly  in  his  hand.  His  eyes  shifted  uneasily  from 
the  thin,  white  face  on  the  pillow  to  the  frozen  features 
of  Jap.  A  clock  ticked  loudly. 

The  thick  gloom  broke.  A  tiny  linnet  that  Jap  had 
given  Flossy  fluttered  to  the  swing  in  its  cage  and 
burst,  all  at  once,  into  song,  and  a  vagrant  sunbeam 
darted  through  the  western  clouds.  Flossy  opened  her 
eyes. 

"Jap,"  she  gasped  painfully,  "is  this  the  thing  called 
Death,  this  uplift  of  joy?" 

The  doctor  raised  her  in  his  arms  and  gave  her  a  few 
sips  of  medicine.  She  was  easier.  She  motioned  Jap 
to  bend  closer. 

"Is  he  gone?"  she  asked  clearly.  "Is  my  boy  with 
his  father?" 

Jap  kissed  her  forehead  gently. 

"He  is  with  Ellis,"  he  whispered. 

"Then  I  thank  You,  great  Giver  of  all  Good,"  she 
cried  happily,  "for  I  can  go  now."  She  summoned 
Bill  with  her  eyes. 

"I  want  you  to  make  the  boy  'very  proud  of  the  men 
he  was  named  for,'  "  she  smiled.  It  was  a  smile  of  heav 
enly  beauty,  as  the  pure  soul  of  Ellis  Hinton's  wife 
flew  to  join  her  loved  ones. 


BILL  and  Isabel  led  Jap  from  the  room  as  the  doc 
tor  drew  the  sheet  over  Flossy's  face.  Together  the 
three  left  the  cottage.  In  dazed  silence  they  walked 
past  the  row  of  modest  homes  until  the  business  street 
was  reached.  Across  Main  street  they  went,  in  stony 
silence,  the  girl  clinging  to  an  arm  of  each  of  her  es 
corts.  In  front  of  the  elm-shaded  residence  of  Tom 
Granger,  now  stark  and  bare  in  its  late  autumn  un 
dress,  they  paused.  Isabel,  unheedful  of  the  passing 
crowd,  threw  her  arms  around  Jap's  neck  and  kissed 
him  passionately.  A  moment  he  held  her  in  his  arms, 
his  tearless  eyes  burning.  And  in  her  awakened  wom 
an's  heart,  she  knew  that  he  was  looking  through  her, 
beholding  the  trio  of  adored  ones  whose  influence  had 
made  his  heart  a  fitting  habitation  for  her  own.  And  in 
that  consciousness  Isabel  Granger  experienced  no 
twinge  of  jealousy. 

Silently  she  walked  up  the  brick-paved  path  to  the 
stately  old  house,  as  Jap  and  Bill  turned  back  toward 
Main  street.  When  they  reached  the  office,  they  locked 
the  door  behind  them.  With  the  mechanical  action  of 
automata,  they  climbed  to  their  stools  and  threw  the 
belated  issue  of  the  Herald  into  type. 

174 


JAP  HERRON  175 

"Bill,  can  you  do  it?"  Jap  asked  at  length. 

"I'll  do  my  best,"  Bill  said  huskily.  And  his  tears 
wet  the  type  as  he  set  up  a  brief  obituary  notice. 

The  morning  of  the  funeral  broke  clear  and  sunny, 
as  fall  days  come.  The  air  was  clear  and  sounds  echoed 
for  long  distances.  It  was  a  joyous  new  day,  and  yet 
a  threnody  swept  through  its  music.  Something  of  this 
Jap  and  Bill  felt  as  they  hurried  to  the  house  of  Death. 
Judge  Bowers  met  them  at  the  door.  His  face  was 
red  and  overcast.  He  shifted  uneasily. 

"I  sent  for  you,  because  we  have  to  fix  things  de 
cently  for  Flossy." 

"Decently?"  echoed  Bill. 

"Why,  yes.  Ma  and  me  got  the  caskets  and  all  that. 
Everything's  'tended  to,  but  the  service.  You  know 
Flossy  was  a  free-thinker,  and  never  belonged  to  no 
church." 

"Well,  what  of  it?"  Bill  said  shortly. 

"We  have  got  to  get  somebody  to  preach  a  sermon," 
asserted  the  Judge,  his  flaccid  face  showing  real  con 
cern.  "I  don't  see  how  we  are  going  to  manage  it.  It 
looks  queer  to  ask  anybody  to  preach  over  a  non-pro 
fessor." 

"Why  do  it  then?"  Bill's  tone  was  enigmatic,  as  he 
followed  Jap  into  the  little  parlor  where  the  effects  of 
the  Judge's  work  were  apparent. 

Side  by  side  stood  the  caskets,  each  one  holding  a 
jewel  more  precious  than  any  diadem.  Jap  sat  down 


176  JAP  HERRON 

between  them,  dumb  to  the  greetings  of  the  friends  who 
came  for  a  last  look  at  the  two  set  faces,  and  there  he 
sat  until  the  afternoon.  The  room  was  half  filled  with 
people  when  the  Judge  aroused  him  by  a  sharp  grip  on 
his  arm. 

"Come  on,  Jap,"  he  whispered  huskily,  "they  have 
come  for  them." 

"Who?"  asked  Jap,  tonelessly. 

"The  hearses,"  said  the  Judge,  his  flabby  cheeks 
trembling. 

Jap  walked  outside  and  climbed  into  the  carriage 
with  Bill,  and  together  they  went  to  the  church  where 
Ellis  had  met  his  townsmen  for  the  last  time.  It  was 
the  handsome  new  church  whose  claim  on  her  brother's 
generosity  had  called  forth  from  Flossy  such  righteous 
resentment.  Mechanically  the  two  young  men  fol 
lowed  the  usher  to  the  pew  that  had  been  set  apart  for 
them.  Vaguely  Jap  smiled  at  Isabel  as  she  passed  him, 
clinging  to  the  arm  of  her  father.  As  in  a  dream,  he 
followed  her  slender  form  as  she  took  her  accustomed 
place  at  the  organ.  Clutching  the  arm  of  the  seat,  he 
sat  there,  deaf,  dumb  and  blind,  until  the  wailing  notes 
of  the  organ  appraised  him  that  the  service  was  be 
ginning. 

He  turned  his  head  as  a  heavy,  rolling  sound  reached 
him,  and  looked  upon  the  most  heart-shaking  sight  in 
the  history  of  the  town:  two  coffins  traveling  up  the 
aisles  to  meet  at  the  altar.  Sick  and  faint,  he  turned 


JAP  HERRON  177 

his  head  away.  Bill's  arm  crept  around  him,  while 
Bill  sobbed  aloud. 

Frozen  to  silence,  Jap  stared  at  the  boxes  contain 
ing  all  that  linked  him  to  his  past.  Stony-eyed,  he 
gazed  at  the  masses  of  flowers,  casually  admiring  the 
gorgeous  chrysanthemums  and  the  pink  glory  of  the 
carnations.  He  even  read,  with  calm  curiosity,  the 
card  of  sympathy  hanging  from  one  of  the  floral  offer 
ings  on  Flossy's  casket.  Then  he  sank  into  blunt  in 
difference  until  he  was  aroused  by  Bill's  start. 

He  looked  up  dully.  The  minister  was  praying — and 
his  prayer  was  for  forgiveness  for  Flossy. 

"She  was  a  wanderer  from  grace,"  the  ominous  voice 
droned,  "but  Thou  who  didst  forgive  the  thief  on  the 
cross  wilt  grant  her  mercy." 

Bill  clasped  his  hands  fiercely  over  Jap's  arm.  His 
breath  hissed  through  his  set  teeth.  Jap  sat  upright, 
his  gray  eyes  searching  the  face  of  the  man  of  God, 
as  he  drawled  through  a  flock  of  platitudes,  promising 
in  the  end  that  on  the  last  great  day  Flossy  and  her 
son  would  be  called  by  the  trump  to  arise,  purified  and 
forgiven. 

Wiping  his  forehead  complacently,  he  sat  down. 

Jap  Herron  arose  to  his  feet  and  walked  to  the  coffin 
of  the  only  mother  he  had  ever  known.  Facing  the 
assembly,  he  said  in  low,  clear  tones : 

"Friends  of  mine,  friends  of  Flossy  and  her  boy,  and 
friends  of  Ellis  Hinton,  you  have  listened  to  this  rain- 


178  JAP  HERRON 

ister.  Now  you  must  listen  to  me.  I  knew  Flossy. 
Some  of  you  knew  her,  but  none  as  I  did.  She  had  no 
religion,  he  says.  Flossy  Hinton's  life  was  a  religion. 
What  is  religion?  Love,  faith  and  works.  Dare  any 
of  you  claim  that  she  had  not  all  of  these?  If  such 
soul  as  hers  needs  help  to  carry  it  through  the  ram 
parts  of  heaven,  then  God  help  all  of  you. 

"She  will  not  sleep  until  a  trumpet  calls  her !  No ! 
Alive  and  vital  and  everlasting,  her  soul  is  with  us  now. 
Did  Ellis  Hinton  sleep  ?  He  has  never  been  away.  He 
has  dwelt  right  here,  in  the  hearts  of  all  who  loved  him. 
Friends,  dry  your  eyes  if  you  grieve  for  the  sins  of 
Flossy." 

Raising  his  hand  above  the  casket,  as  if  in  benedic 
tion,  and  looking  into  the  face  beneath  the  glass,  he  said 
brokenly : 

"A  saint  she  lived  among  us.  In  heaven  she  could  be 
no  more." 

The  descending  sun  shot  a  ray  of  white  light  across 
the  church,  as  it  sank  below  the  opaque  designs  in  the 
gorgeous  memorial  window  that  flanked  the  choir.  A 
moment  later  it  would  be  crimson,  then  purple,  then 
amber;  but  for  an  instant  it  filtered  through  pure,  un- 
tinted  glass.  Creeping  stealthily,  the  white  ray  reached 
the  space  in  front  of  the  altar  and  rested  a  moment 
on  the  still  face  within  the  casket.  To  Jap  it  seemed 
that  the  lips  that  had  always  smiled  for  him  relaxed 
into  a  smile  of  transcendent  beauty.  Entranced  he 


JAP  HERRON  179 

looked,  forgetting  all  else.  Then  the  strength  of  his 
young  manhood  crumbled.  The  hinges  of  his  knees 
gave  way,  and  he  sank  to  the  floor. 

Bill  sprang  to  his  side  and  carried  him  to  a  seat. 
Isabel,  half  distracted,  started  from  her  place  at  the 
organ.  As  she  passed,  the  white  face  in  the  coffin  met 
her  eyes.  She  stopped.  A  tide  of  feeling  swept  her 
back,  back  from  Jap,  whose  limp  form  called  her.  The 
song  that  Flossy  had  loved  came  singing  to  her  lips. 
Inspired  in  that  moment,  she  stood  beside  the  coffin  and 
sang,  as  never  before,  the  words  that  had  comforted 
Flossy  in  her  years  of  loneliness : 

"Somewhere    the    stars    are    shining, 

Somewhere  the  song  birds  dwell. 
Cease  then  thy  sad  repining! 
God  lives,  and  all  is  well." 

Her  face  was  glorified.  She  sang  to  that  silent  one, 
and  to  the  world  that  had  been  hers.  In  a  dream  she 
sang  on,  as  the  mother  and  her  boy  were  taken  from 
her  sight,  sang  on  while  the  people  silently  departed. 
"Somewhere,  somewhere,"  she  sang, 

"Beautiful  isle  of  Somewhere, 

Isle  of  the  true,  where  we  live  anew, 
Beautiful  isle  of  Somewhere." 

Her  voice  broke  as  uncontrollable  sobs  rent  her 
slender  body,  and  she  sank  against  the  shoulder  of  her 


180  JAP  HERRON 

father  and  followed  Bill  from  the  church.  Half-a-dozen 
kindly  hands  were  carrying  Jap  outside. 

The  long  line  of  carriages  had  already  started  on 
its  way  to  the  little  plot  of  ground  where  two  fern-lined 
graves  awaited  the  loved  ones  of  Ellis  Hinton.  The 
horses  of  the  remaining  carriage  pawed  the  ground 
restlessly  in  the  sharp  November  air. 

"Better  take  him  to  his  room  in  a  hurry,"  Dr.  Hall 
commanded.  "The  boy  has  been  through  too  much. 
I  was  afraid  of  this." 

"You  can't  take  him  to  that  dreary  office,"  Isabel 
pleaded.  "Papa,  tell  Dr.  Hall  what  to  do." 

And,  as  always,  she  had  her  way.  In  the  sunny 
south  room  above  the  library,  with  the  shadows  of  the 
stark  elms  doing  grotesque  dances  on  the  window  panes, 
with  Isabel  and  her  mother  hovering  in  tender  solicitude 
over  him,  Jap  Herron  tossed  for  weeks  in  the  delirium 
of  fever,  calling  always  for  Flossy. 


CHAPTER  XIX 

"Ms.  BOWERS  wants  to  talk  to  you,"  Isabel  said, 
smoothing  Jap's  limp  hair  from  his  haggard  face.  "He 
has  been  here  every  day  for  a  week,  and  Mamma 
wouldn't  hear  to  his  bothering  you,  especially  as  you 
had  concluded  that  you  must  talk  to  Bill  about  the 
office." 

"Let  him  come,"  said  Jap  wearily. 

The  Judge  tramped  heavily  into  the  bedroom. 

"I  want  to  talk  to  you  about  Flossy's  affairs,"  he  de 
clared,  dropping  into  a  chair  and  blowing  his  nose. 

Jap's  face  flushed,  then  paled.  He  lifted  one  thin 
hand  to  his  eyes  and  leaned  back  in  the  pillows. 

"I  sent  for  Bill  to  meet  me  here  and  have  Brent  Rob 
erts  read  Flossy's  will." 

"Why?"     Jap's  voice  rasped  with  paio. 

"You  have  been  sick  nigh  a  month,"  said  the  Judge, 
"and  there's  a  power  o'  things  that  oughter  be  seen 
to,  and  Brent  refused  to  read  Flossy's  will  till  you  could 
hear  it.  I  want  to  settle  the  bills." 

Isabel  slipped  her  arm  around  Jap's  shoulder  and 
glared  at  the  Judge. 

"You  ought  to  be  ashamed,"  she  cried.  "Jap  is  not 
strong  enough  to  be  bothered  with  business." 

181 


182  JAP  HERRON 

Jap  put  her  aside  gently  and  sat  up. 

"The  Judge  is  right,  sweetheart,"  he  said.  "I  will 
not  be  tired  with  doing  anything  for — for  her." 

He  covered  his  face  with  his  hands.  Bill  entered 
softly.  His  brows  lowered  at  sight  of  his  father. 

"What  did  you  want  with  me  and  Roberts  ?"  he  quer 
ied  shortly. 

"It  is  all  right,  Bill,"  Jap  said  brokenly.  "It  will 
hurt  whenever  it  comes,  so  let's  get  it  done." 

After  the  will  was  read  Jap  lay  silent,  the  tears  slip 
ping  down  his  cheeks,  for  Flossy's  will  gave  all  that 
she  possessed  to  her  son,  Jap  Herron.  It  was  made 
the  day  after  she  knew  that  her  own  child  was  doomed 
to  an  early  death. 

They  filed  slowly  from  the  room,  even  the  Judge  awed 
by  the  face  of  the  boy. 

The  New  Year  had  turned  the  corner  when  Jap  was 
moved  to  the  office.  Little  by  little  he  grew  back  into 
harness.  They  did  not  talk  of  Flossy  in  those  early 
days.  It  was  not  possible.  One  chill  spring  day,  when 
the  grass  was  greening,  and  the  first  blossoms  were 
opening  among  the  hyacinths  on  Ellis's  grave,  Jap 
walked  with  Bill  to  the  cemetery.  He  bent  above  the 
dried  wreaths  with  their  faded  ribbons,  sodden  and 
dinged  by  the  winter's  snows. 

"Throw  them  away,  Bill,"  he  choked.  "They  are 
the  tawdry  tokens  of  mourning.  I  am  trying  to  forget 
that  mourning."  . 


JAP  HERRON  183 

Bill  gathered  the  dry  bundles  and  carried  them 
away.  Coming  back,  he  stood  looking  mournfully  upon 
the  muddy  sod.  Jap  raised  his  eyes  suddenly,  and  they 
gazed  for  a  long  minute  into  each  other's  hearts.  Bill 
threw  his  hands  over  his  eyes  and  cried  aloud. 

"Don't,  Bill!"  Jap's  hand  clutched  him  tightly. 
"For  God's  sake,  help  me  to  be  a  man!" 

And  forgetting  the  sodden  grass,  they  knelt  beside 
the  grave  and  sobbed  together  in  an  abandon  of  grief. 
Boys  they  were,  despite  their  years,  and  Flossy  had 
been  more  to  them  than  the  mother  whom  youth  is 
prone  to  take  for  granted.  When  the  tempest  of  sor 
row  and  desolation  had  spent  itself  they  arose. 

"It  is  done,"  said  Jap,  looking  up  into  the  sky  where 
the  stars  were  beginning  to  twinkle  palely.  "It  had  to 
be  done.  Now  I  can  realize  that  they  laid  Flossy  be 
neath  the  earth.  But,  please  God,  I  can  forget  it. 
Now  I  know  that  she  has  left  the  beautiful  shell  behind. 
But,  Bill,"  he  touched  the  mound  with  his  fingers, 
"Flossy  has  never  been  here,  never  for  an  instant." 

"She  is  in  heaven,"  said  Bill  reverently. 

Jap  laid  his  arm  around  Bill's  shoulders. 

"You  don't  believe  that,  Bill.  You  know  better. 
Flossy  is  right  with  us,  as  Ellis  has  always  been.  Just 
as  he  has  inspired  us  to  develop  his  paper  and  his 
town,  so  she  will  stay  with  us,  to  create  good  and  op 
timism  and  faith  in  ourselves.  Bill,  when  those  two 
wonderful  people  came  into  our  lives,  they  came  to  stay. 


184  JAP  HERRON 

Do  you  think  Ellis  and  Flossy  would  get  any  joy  out 
of  strumming  on  a  harp  and  taking  their  own  selfish 
ease?  No,  Bill,  that's  all  a  mistake.  They're  working 
right  with  us,  and  it's  up  to  you  and  me  to  so  wholly 
reflect  them  that  we  will  be  to  this  town  what  they 
have  been  to  us.  In  any  crisis  in  our  lives,  let  us  not 
forget  that  Ellis  and  Flossy  Hinton  are  not  dead.  We 
may  have  need  to  remember  it,  Bill." 

The  next  morning  he  climbed  on  his  stool  and  took 
the  stick  in  his  hand.  Bill  stopped  at  the  door  of 
the  composing  room,  something  in  Jap's  attitude  ar 
resting  him. 

"What  are  you  going  to  do,  Jap?" 

"Get  busy,"  declared  Jap.  "We  have  given  out 
enough  plate.  The  Herald  is  going  back  on  the  job." 

Bill  felt  a  lump  rise  in  his  throat  as  he  paused  to 
finger  the  copy  on  his  hook. 

"We  have  to  get  the  drums  beating,"  said  Jap.  "We 
have  to  elect  Wat  Harlow  governor,  and,  believe  the 
Barton  Standard,  we  have  some  rough  road  to  travel." 

And  the  battle  was  on !  Alone,  the  Bloomtown  Her 
ald  tackled  the  job  of  making  a  governor.  Watson 
Harlow  had  been  a  familiar  figure  in  state  politics  for 
more  than  twenty  years,  but  as  gubernatorial  timber 
no  one  had  ever  regarded  him  seriously.  His  opponent, 
on  the  other  hand,  was  a  fresh  figure  in  the  state,  with 
all  the  novelty  of  the  unknown  quantity  about  him. 
It  was  an  off  year  for  the  dominant  party,  both  locally 


JAP  HERRON  185 

and  nationally,  and  the  fight  promised  to  be  a  compli 
cated  one. 

Week  by  week  the  battle  raged  between  the  types. 
Little  by  little  the  country  press  began  to  get  in  the 
fight.  Not  content  with  the  picturesque  drumming 
of  his  own  machine,  Jap  interested  the  city  press  in 
the  history  of  Wat  Harlow,  the  "Lone  Pine,  of  Integ 
rity  Absolute."  This  descriptive  title  was  proclaimed 
in  and  out  of  season  during  the  months  of  battle, 
both  before  and  after  the  nomination  of  Harlow  and 
Jones.  Jap  invented  a  stinger  for  Bronson  Jones.  In 
his  past  history,  it  was  alleged,  he  had  much  that  were 
better  concealed  than  revealed.  Not  the  least  of  his 
offenses  was  that  he  had  assisted  his  father,  a  certain 
P.  D.  Jones,  in  stealing  red-hot  cook-stoves  from  the 
ruins  of  the  Chicago  fire.  Jap  so  declared,  and  he 
offered  to  prove  that  Jones  had  sold  these  same  stoves 
to  their  former  owners,  when  they  became  cold.  In  one 
instance,  the  victim  was  a  widow  who  had  lost  every 
thing,  even  her  former  mate,  in  the  fire.  And  Jones 
carried  the  title,  "The  Widow's  Friend,"  for  years. 
All  this  was  fun  for  the  city  dailies,  and  cartoons  of 
the  "Lone  Pine"  being  fed  to  the  "Cook-Stove"  alter 
nated  with  those  of  the  pine  falling  upon  the  "Widow's 
Friend"  as  he  was  about  to  sell  a  stove  to  the  above- 
mentioned  widow. 

The  color  came  back  to  Jap's  cheeks,  and  the  battle 
light  flamed  in  his  gray  eyes.  His  one  relaxation  was 


186  JAP  HERRON 

the  tranquil  hour  with  Isabel.  Harlow,  like  an  uneasy 
ghost,  haunted  the  Herald  office  when  he  was  not  out 
storming  the  hustings.  The  Barton  Standard  contin 
ued  to  pry  into  Wat's  past,  while  the  Herald  continued 
to  lift  the  lid  from  the  chest  of  Bronson's  secret  gar 
ments.  Unfortunately,  the  Standard  had  played  its 
big  trump  card  in  the  congressional  campaign.  The 
vermilion  handbill  was  once  more  dragged  to  light,  but 
it  worked  like  a  boomerang,  for  several  of  Wat's  own 
party  workers  had  been  caught  red-handed  in  the  act 
of  attempting  to  operate  a  shameless  graft  game,  in  the 
name  of  the  university.  And  Jap  utilized  the  story  to 
show  that  Wat  was  a  man  above  party,  a  man  in  whose 
mind  integrity  was  indeed  absolute. 

Argument  grew  red  hot,  every  place  but  Bloomtown. 
There,  there  was  no  one  to  argue  with.  Bloomtown  was 
one  man  for  Harlow.  Jones  undertook  to  deliver  one 
speech  there,  and  that  bright  hour  nearly  became  his 
last.  After  the  good-natured  raillery  of  the  opening 
address,  Jones  plunged  into  the  vitriolic  explosion  he 
had  delivered  at  the  various  places  he  had  spoken.  For 
exactly  ten  minutes  it  lasted.  By  that  time,  Kelly 
Jones  had  reached  Hollins's  grocery  store  and  gath 
ered  enough  eggs  to  start  a  protest  against  the  defama 
tion  of  Wat  Harlow's  character.  And  the  protest 
was  proclaimed  unanimous ! 

It  was  stated  that  there  were  no  eggs  on  Bloomtown's 
breakfast  table  next  morning,  and  no  Sunday  cakes. 


JAP  HERRON  187 

"But,"  said  the  Herald,  "if  Bronson  Jones  wants  any 
more  hen-fruit,  the  housewives  of  Bloomtown  will  cheer 
fully  sacrifice  themselves  in  his  behalf." 

And  so  the  months  sped  away  until  the  grass  had 
mossed  the  graves  in  the  cemetery  with  lush  beauty, 
and  the  three  mounds  were  merged  into  one  by  the 
riotous  growth  of  sweet  alyssum,  Flossy's  best  loved 
blossom.  The  summer  waned.  The  autumn  hasted,  and 
chill  winds  whispered  around  the  Lone  Pine  as  the 
last  sortie  was  made.  Then  Bloomtown  pressed  her 
hands  to  her  throbbing  breast  and  got  ready  for — 
Victory  ? 


CHAPTER  XX 

BILL  jumped  from  bed  as  the  rattle  of  the  latch 
announced  the  arrival  of  a  visitor.  Without  waiting 
for  the  formality  of  more  than  a  bathrobe,  Rosy  Ray 
mond's  last  birthday  gift  to  him,  he  bolted  down  the 
stairs  and  across  the  office.  He  flung  the  door  open 
and  disclosed  the  hazy  features  of  Kelly  Jones,  peering 
at  him  through  the  November  fog. 

"What,  ho !  Kelly,  what  brings  you  to  our  door  in 
the  glooming?" 

Kelly  shook  the  rain  from  his  slicker  and  came  in 
side. 

"Wife  called  me  at  three  o'clock,"  he  announced. 
"Had  my  breakfast  and  rid  like  hell  to  git  to  town 
early.  I  want  to  cast  the  fu'st  vote  for  Wat  for  gov 
ernor." 

Bill  yawned. 

"You  could  have  ridden  more  leisurely,  and  saved  us 
a  couple  of  hours'  sleep,"  he  complained.  "There  are 
at  least  a  thousand  voters  of  Bloomtown  with  that  same 
laudable  intention.  Tom  Granger  has  been  missing 
since  seven  o'clock  last  night.  It  is  believed  that  he  is 
locked  in  the  booth  so  that  his  vote  will  skin  the  rest." 

188 


JAP  HERRON  189 

Kelly  looked  ruefully  back  into  the  rain. 

"I  reckon  that  I  will  come  in  and  set  a  while,  that 
bein'  the  report." 

"Any  man  found  voting  for  Jones  is  to  be  lynched  at 
sunset,"  declared  Bill,  pushing  a  chair  forward. 

"Reckon  this'll  be  a  big  day  for  the  Democrats," 
commented  Kelly,  stretching  his  feet  across  the  table 
comfortably.  "  'Tain't  nothin'  to  keep  'em  home,  so 
they'll  kill  time,  votin'.  That's  why  I  allus  cussed  my 
daddy  for  raisin'  me  a  Democrat.  Bein'  as  I  am  one, 
I've  got  to  stick  by  and  see  the  durn  fools  shuckin' 
corn  while  the  Republicans  are  haulin'  their  grand-dad 
dies  in  town  to  vote  the  Republicans  in." 

Bill  retired  to  don  a  few  garments  and  Jap  tumbled 
from  bed,  for  this  was  a  big  day  in  Bloomtown.  Be 
fore  six  o'clock  the  roads  were  lined  with  vehicles,  as 
for  an  Independence  holiday.  The  county  was  coming 
in  to  help  the  town  vote  for  her  favorite  son. 

About  noon  Harlow  came  creeping  up  the  alley  and 
slipped  in  at  the  back  door.  He  wore  a  slicker  that  he 
had  borrowed  from  some  constituent  who  was  short. 
It  hung  sorrowfully  about  his  knees.  Bill  remembered 
that  in  spike-tail  coat  and  white  necktie  Wat  Harlow 
looked  enough  like  a  governor  to  pass  for  one,  but  just 
now  he  resembled  nothing  so  much  as  a  draggled 
rooster.  The  stove  in  the  little  private  office  hissed 
and  sputtered  as  he  shook  the  rain  from  the  coat. 

"I  thought  that  the  only  place  that  victory  would 


190  JAP  HERRON 

be  complete  would  be  the  Herald  office,"  he  said,  relax 
ing  into  a  chair.  "And  if  we  are  beat,  I  could  meet  it 
better  here."  He  took  a  paper  in  his  shaking  hands  and 
tried  to  read. 

The  rain  poured  in  torrents,  but  Bloomtown  cast  her 
record  vote — and  not  one  scurrilous  vote  against  him 
dropped  into  the  ballot  box.  At  sunset  a  wild  yell  pro 
claimed  that  Bloomtown  had  done  her  duty.  It  was 
now  up  to  the  rest  of  the  state  whether  Wat  Harlow, 
proclaimed  from  border  to  border  as  an  honest  man, 
would  be  its  next  governor.  On  his  record  as  opposed 
to  State  University  graft,  he  had  once  been  elected  to 
the  legislature  when  the  running  was  close.  On  that 
same  record,  as  opposed  to  higher  education,  he  was 
defeated  for  United  States  Congressman,  and  on  that 
same  record  he  was  running  for  governor  of  his  state. 

The  Herald  office  lighted  up.  All  the  big  men  of 
Bloomtown  smoked  the  air  blue,  waiting  for  the  re 
turns.  First  good,  then  crushingly  bad,  they  varied. 
By  the  tone  of  the  operator's  yell,  the  waiters  guessed 
each  bulletin.  If  he  came  silent,  they  all  coughed  and 
waited  for  some  one  to  take  the  fatal  slip  of  paper. 
The  dawn  was  graying  when  they  dispersed,  with  the 
issue  still  in  doubt.  It  was  late  afternoon  before  they 
knew  that  Harlow  was  elected.  Bill  grinned  joyously, 
for  the  first  time  since  Rosy  Raymond  carried  her  heart 
to  Barton  and  left  it  there. 


JAP  HERRON  191 

"How  many  roosters  have  we?"  he  asked  impishly,  as 
he  walked  over  to  the  telephone. 

"Why  ?"  queried  Jap. 

"I  am  going  to  'phone  Jones  that  we  want  to  borrow 
all  that  he  don't  need,"  said  Bill,  taking  the  receiver 
from  the  hook. 

"We  done  it !"  yelled  Kelly  Jones,  slapping  his  slouch 
hat  against  the  door.  "And  I'm  goin'  over  to  Barton 
and  git  on  the  hell-firedest  drunk  that  that  jay  town 
ever  seen.  Whoopee !"  And  off  he  set  at  a  run  to 
catch  the  local  freight. 

About  half  of  Bloomtown  seemed  inspired  with  the 
same  spirit,  and  the  freight  pulled  out  amid  wild  yells 
of  joy.  Several  of  the  most  agile  among  the  jubilant 
ones  draped  the  box  cars  with  strips  of  faded,  soggy 
bunting,  and  Harlow's  picture  adorned  the  cow-catcher. 
The  yelling,  that  had  been  discontinued  for  economic 
reasons,  was  resumed  in  raucous  chorus  as  the  train 
rolled  into  Barton  to  celebrate  Harlow's  victory  in 
Jones's  town. 

The  Bloomtown  Herald  did  itself  proud  that  week. 
A  mammoth  picture  of  the  Lone  Pine  stood  forth  on 
the  front  page.  Around  it  fluttered  one  hundred  flags. 
Every  page  sported  roosters  and  flags  in  each  available 
space,  between  local  readers  and  editorial  paragraphs. 
It  was  a  thing  of  beauty  and  a  joy  forever — at  least  to 
Wat  Harlow.  One  other  cut  found  place  at  the  bottom 
of  the  editorial  page.  Bill  did  not  forget  to  boomerang 


192  JAP  HERRON 

Wilfred  Jones  by  reprinting  the  weeping  angel.  For  a 
week  there  were  bonfires  every  night,  and  a  number  of 
Bloomtown's  citizens  sought  to  lighten  Barton's  woes 
by  buying  fire-water  there.  Wat  swelled  until  he  looked 
more  like  a  corpulent  oak  than  a  lone  pine. 

"My  house  is  yours,"  he  cried,  alternately  wringing 
Jap  and  Bill  by  their  weary  hands.  He  had  come 
across  once  more  from  his  headquarters  in  the  Court 
House  to  make  sure  his  appreciation  was  understood. 
Jap  smiled  wanly  as  the  village  band  followed  him 
with  its  intermittent  serenade. 

Bloomtown  had  long  since  outgrown  the  village  class ; 
but  not  a  drum  nor  a  horn  had  encroached  upon  the 
old  traditions  of  that  band.  Mike  Hawkins  was  far 
too  conservative  to  permit  innovation,  and  as  there  was 
no  provision  for  retiring  the  bandmaster  on  half  pay, 
the  problem  of  dividing  nothing  in  half  having  as  yet 
been  unsolved,  Mike  continued  to  hold  the  job.  All 
day  the  band  had  been  vibrating  between  the  Court 
House  and  the  Herald  office,  having  delivered  ten  sere 
nades  at  each  side  of  Main  street,  for  it  was  understood 
that  the  Herald  shared  the  victory  with  Harlow.  As 
the  Governor-elect  retreated  to  the  other  side  of  the 
street,  the  band  at  his  heels,  Bill  groaned  aloud. 

"I  wish  that  that  bunch  of  musicians  had  had  more 
confidence  that  Wat  was  going  to  get  it,"  he  sighed, 
"so  that  they  could  have  learned  one  tune  good." 

Kelly  Jones  was   capering  down  the  street.     Kelly 


JAP  HERRON  193 

had  absorbed  enough  of  Barton  booze  to  make  him  be 
lieve  he  owned  the  half  of  Bloomtown  that  did  not  be 
long  to  Wat  Harlow.  Pie  had  been  having  what  Bill 
described  as  "one  large,  full  time."  As  he  came  in 
sight,  Bill's  brow  darkened. 

"I've  been  afraid  that  Kelly  would  burst  and  catch 
fire,"  he  said  morosely,  "and  now,  by  jolly,  I  wish  he 
would.  It's  funny  how  much  your  good  friends  will  get 
in  your  way  when  they  pair  off  with  John  Barleycorn. 
Kelly  is  certainly  one  ding-buster  when  he  is  lit  up." 

Jap  leaned  from  the  door  to  watch  the  procession 
that  had  formed  for  the  purpose  of  escorting  Wat  Har 
low  to  the  station. 

"Kelly's  time  is  wrinkling,"  he  laughed.  "Here 
comes  Mrs.  Kelly  Jones,  with  worriment  on  her  brow." 

Bill  ran  his  inky  fingers  through  his  hair.  Some 
thing  was  troubling  him. 

"Jap,"  he  said  as  he  walked  toward  the  door  of  the 
composing  room,  "that  skunk  of  a  Jones " 

"Who?     Kelly?" 

"Oh,  no."  Bill  wheeled,  and  his  face  was  deadly  ear 
nest.  "Kelly's  not  a  skunk,  even  when  he  has  soaked 
up  all  the  rotgut  in  Barton.  But  I  had  Kelly  Jones 
in  the  back  of  my  head,  just  the  same,  when  I  men 
tioned  the  honorable  Editor  of  the  Barton  Standard. 
It's  getting  under  my  skin,  Jap,  the  way  he  has  of 
tempting  these  Bloomtown  fools  over  to  his  filthy  vil 
lage  to  get  the  booze  we  won't  let  'em  have  at  home, 


194  JAP  HERRON 

and  then  holding  them  up  to  ridicule  when  they  make 
asses  of  themselves." 

"It's  one  of  the  angles  of  this  problem  that  I  haven't 
figured  out  yet,"  Jap  said  earnestly.  "Do  you  think 
it  would  do  any  good  to  go  gunning  for  Jones?" 

"I've  thought  of  that  possibility  several  times,"  and 
Bill's  tone  was  not  entirely  humorous. 

Jap  shoved  his  stool  to  the  case.  As  he  climbed  upon 
it,  he  sighed  uneasily.  It  had  been  sixteen  months  since 
Wilfred  Jones  turned  the  neat  trick  that  left  Bill  dis 
consolate,  and  still  the  venom  lingered  in  the  bereft 
boy's  heart.  To  Jap,  with  his  standard  of  womanhood 
established  by  Flossy  and  Isabel,  the  thing  was  mon 
strous,  inconceivable.  And  yet  it  was  a  fact  to  be 
faced. 

"We'll  have  to  get  busy,  Bill,"  he  said.  "We've  got 
enough  job  work  on  the  hooks  to  keep  us  up  till  mid 
night  for  a  week.  We  haven't  done  a  thing  the  last 
month  but  elect  Wat  Harlow." 

"I  hope  to  grab  he  won't  run  for  another  office  till  I 
have  six  sons  to  help  me,"  Bill  snorted. 

Jap  heaved  a  sudden  sigh  of  relief. 

"Looking  out  again,  Bill?"  he  asked,  jerking  his 
thumb  in  the  direction  of  the  vacant  photograph  frame 
above  Bill's  case. 


CHAPTER  XXI 

IT  was  the  day  after  Thanksgiving.  Bill  was  twirl 
ing  the  chambers  of  his  revolver  around.  His  face  was 
grim.  Jap  halted  in  the  door  of  their  bedroom. 

"Going  gunning  for  Jones?"  he  asked  lightly. 

Bill  turned,  and  the  black  look  on  his  face  startled 
Jap. 

"I  am,"  he  said  deliberately,  "and  I  will  come  back  to 
jail  or  in  my  coffin." 

Jap  caught  the  revolver  from  his  hand. 

"Bill,"  he  said  sharply,  "wake  up!" 

Bill  threw  a  letter  to  him,  and  continued  his  hasty 
toilet.  Jap  read: 

"Dear  Will,— 

"Come  to  me.  I  am  almost  crazy.  Wilfred  accused 
me  of  giving  you  information  against  his  father  that 
beat  him  in  the  election,  and  he  struck  me  in  the  mouth. 
He  said  he  only  married  me  to  spite  you,  and  he  hates 
me.  I  will  meet  you  at  the  section  house,  where  the 
train  slows  up  for  the  switch,  at  six  o'clock.  I  want 
you  to  take  me  away,  I  don't  care  where.  I  don't  love 
anybody  but  you,  and  I  can't  live  with  Wilfred  another 

195 


196  JAP  HERRON 

night.    I  don't  care  whether  anybody  ever  speaks  to  me 
again,  if  you  will  take  me  and  love  me. 

"Your  distracted  ROSALIE." 

Jap  stared  at  the  note  as  if  it  had  been  a  snake- 
tressed  Medusa  that  turned  him  to  stone.  He  stood 
rigid  and  paralyzed  as  Bill  said,  deadly  calm: 

"I  am  going  to  Barton,  and  I  am  going  to  shoot 
that  dog." 

"And  after  that?"  Jap's  voice  was  toneless. 

"After  that !"  Bill  broke  out  fiercely.  "After  that, 
what  more?" 

Jap  drew  Bill  around  to  face  him.  Rivers  of  fire 
seemed  suddenly  to  course  through  his  body,  and  an 
unprecedented  rage  burned  up  within  him. 

"You  are  not  going  to  Barton,  and  you  are  not  go 
ing  to  meet  that  foolish  light-o'-love  at  the  section 
house,"  he  said  sternly. 

"Who  will  stop  me?  Not  you,  Jap,  for  even  if  an 
angel  from  heaven  tried  to  bar  my  way,  I  would  brush 
it  aside.  I  wanted  to  kill  him  when  he  stole  her  away 
and " 

Jap  shook  him  angrily. 

"No  one  stole  her,  Bill.  Have  you  forgotten  the  in 
solent,  flippant  letter  she  wrote  you?" 

Bill  shook  Jap's  hand  from  his  shoulder. 

"It's  no  use,  Jap.     I  am  going  to  kill  him !" 


JAP  HERRON  197 

Jap  set  his  teeth  and  his  gray  eyes  blazed  as  he 
gripped  Bill's  arms  and  shoved  him  into  a  chair. 

"I  will  have  you  locked  up,  you  foolish  hot-head," 
he  exclaimed,  "and  give  Wilfred  Jones  a  few  hours  to 
consider  his  attitude  toward  his  wife.  She  is  his  wife, 
Bill,  and  all  your  heroics  won't  gloss  that  fact  from 
sight.  Do  you  want  to  hang,  because  you  were  a 
damned  fool?  I  can  consider  a  romantic  close  to  your 
career,  but  not  as  an  intruder  in  another  man's  home 
— no  matter  how  great  your  feeling  of  injustice.  Rosy 
was  not  a  child  when  she  married  Wilfred  Jones." 

"But  he  struck  her,"  gulped  Bill. 

"I  have  known  times,"  declared  Jap  vehemently, 
"when,  if  I  had  been  of  the  fibre  of  Wilfred  Jones,  I 
would  have  felt  satisfaction  in  thrashing  Rosy  Ray 
mond.  Not  having  been  Jones,  I  had  to  content  myself 
with  kicking  the  furniture  around.  I  don't  want  to  rile 
you,  Bill,  but  I  rather  think  there  are  two  sides  to  this 
story,  and  I  want  to  hear  both  sides.  If  it  is  proven 
that  Jones  has  mistreated  Rosy  brutally,  I  will  hold 
him  while  you  give  him  the  licking  he  deserves.  More 
than  that,  I  will  help  Rosy  to  get  a  divorce.  Isn't  that 
fair  enough,  Bill?  What  is  revenge  upon  a  dead  body, 
especially  if  you  expiate  that  revenge  on  the  gallows? 
Tell  me,  who  profits?  For  the  woman,  disgrace.  For 

you Humph !  the  only  one  who  comes  out  of  it 

honorably  is  the  dead  man,  Jones." 

Bill  glowered  at  him. 


198  JAP  HERRON 

"You  had  no  mother,  Bill,  because  she  died  when  she 
gave  you  to  the  world.  I  had  no  mother,  because  Provi 
dence  gave  me  where  I  was  a  burden.  But  God  gave 
both  of  us  a  mother.  Bill,  before  you  go  any  farther 
with  this  adventure — misadventure — I  want  you  to 
kneel  with  me  before  Flossy's  picture  and  ask  for  her 
approval  and  her  blessing.  Because,  Bill,  brother,  she 
knows.  And  what  do  you  suppose  will  be  her  counsel? 
What  would  Flossy  want  you  to  do?" 

He  took  the  photograph  from  the  table  and  held  it 
out  to  Bill.  The  brown  eyes  remained  downcast.  The 
hands  opened  and  closed  spasmodically.  Jap  lowered 
the  picture  so  that  Bill's  eyes  could  not  choose  but 
meet  the  loved  face.  A  great,  gulping  sob  shook  him, 
and  he  dashed  into  the  other  room  and  slammed  the 
door.  Jap's  tense  features  relaxed  into  a  smile.  He 
knew  that  Flossy  had  won. 

"Will  you  let  me  go  to  Barton  instead  of  you?"  he 
asked  through  the  closed  door.  There  was  no  reply, 
and  he  turned  the  knob.  Bill  was  staring  stolidly 
from  the  window.  "I  won't  carry  healing  oil  if  the 
case  doesn't  call  for  it,"  he  insisted.  "You  will  believe 
me,  boy?" 

"It's  your  job,"  Bill  said,  in  smothered,  tear- 
drenched  tones. 

"I  can  just  make  the  5:20,"  said  Jap,  as  he  caught 
up  his  hat  and  overcoat  from  the  foot  of  the  bed  where 


JAP  HERRON  199 

he  had  flung  them.  Then  he  hurried  to  the  station, 
with  Rosy's  foolish  letter  in  his  pocket. 

Without  looking  to  right  or  left  he  boarded  the  train 
that  would  have  carried  Bill  to  his  love  tryst.  Already 
the  evening  shadows  were  beginning  to  settle,  and  it 
was  almost  dark  when  the  local  train  ran  into  the  sid 
ing  to  permit  the  east-bound  special  to  pass.  He  stood 
on  the  steps  of  the  rear  coach  as  the  wheels  crunched 
with  the  stopping  of  the  train.  Then  he  dropped 
quietly  to  the  ground.  The  special,  that  was  wont  to 
throw  dust  in  the  eyes  of  both  Bloomtown  and  Barton, 
came  thundering  by,  and  the  friendly  local  took  up  its 
westward  journey. 

Jap  hurried  over  to  the  cloaked  figure  that  crouched 
in  the  shadow  of  the  little  section  house.  Rosy  crept 
out  quickly,  but  retreated  with  a  cry  of  alarm  when 
she  saw  that  Jap,  and  not  Bill,  was  coming  to  meet  her. 
He  caught  her  by  the  arm  and  drew  her  into  the  light 
of  an  electric  bulb  that  glowed  above  the  section  boss's 
door.  Scanning  her  silly  face  for  a  moment,  he  said 
sharply : 

"So  you  lied  to  Bill!  There  is  no  mark  of  a  blow 
on  your  face." 

"He — he  did  push  me,"  she  sobbed.  "And  I  don't  love 
him,  anyway.  It  was  your  fault  that  I  ran  away  with 
Wilfred." 

"My  fault?"  echoed  Jap. 

"Yes,"  she  said,  and  her  tone  rasped  with  cruel  spite. 


200  JAP  HERRON 

"What  girl  wants  to  have  her  sweetheart  only  half 
hers?  Jap  Herron  only  had  to  twist  his  thumb,  and 
Bill  would  run  like  a  foolish  girl.  I  wanted  a  whole  man 
or  none." 

"Seems  that  you  got  one,"  commented  Jap,  "and 
don't  appreciate  him.  Now,  Rosy,  if  you  think  you 
are  going  to  ruin  three  lives  by  starting  this  kind  of 
a  play,  I  am  going  to  undeceive  you.  I  am  going  to 
take  you  home  and  look  into  this  affair." 

"I  won't  go  !"  she  screamed.     "He  would  kill  me." 

"What  did  you  do?"  demanded  Jap,  holding  her 
tightly. 

"I  wrote  him  a  note  that  I  had  run  away  with  Bill," 
she  confessed  sullenly. 

For  the  first  time  Jap  became  conscious  of  the  suit 
case  at  her  feet.  His  grip  on  her  arm  tightened  until 
she  cried  with  pain. 

"You  idiotic  little  fool,"  he  ground  between  his  teeth. 
"Where  is  your  husband?" 

"He  went  to  the  city  this  morning.  He  said  he'd 
come  home  on  the  local  if  he  got  through  his  business 
in  time.  Otherwise  he  wouldn't  come  till  the  midnight 
train.  I  thought  Bill  could  get  a  rig  and  drive  to 
Faber.  I  thought  he  could  take  me  away  somehow  be 
fore  Wilfred  got  the  news." 

"News  ?  Great  God !"  cried  Jap.  "And  such  as  you 
could  win  the  golden  heart  of  Bill  Bowers !  Come  with 
me.  If  your  husband  takes  the  late  train,  there  is  still 


JAP  HERRON  201 

time  to  destroy  that  note.  ,  If  he  is  already  at 
home 

"He'd  go  to  the  office  first,  anyway,"  Rosy  cried. 
"But  I  don't  want  to  go  home." 

"You're  going  home,  no  matter  what  the  conse 
quences,"  Jap  told  her.  "And  if  you  ever  attempt  to 
communicate  with  Bill  again,  I  will  have  you  put  in 
an  asylum.  You  are  not  capable  of  going  through  life 
sensibly." 

He  walked  her  rapidly  up  the  railroad  track  and 
through  the  streets  that  lay  between  the  business  part 
of  Barton  and  her  own  pretty  home.  On  the  corner 
opposite  the  house  he  stopped,  while  she  ran  across  the 
street  in  terror  and  rushed  up  the  steps.  She  had  told 
him  that  if  all  was  yet  well,  she  would  appear  at  the 
window.  As  he  stood  there,  his  eyes  glued  on  the  great 
square  of  glass,  some  one  touched  him  on  the  arm.  He 
turned.  It  was  Wilfred  Jones. 

"Well,  Daddy-long-legs,"  he  said  brusquely.  "You 
think  you  turned  a  pretty  trick.  Well,  it  was  a  fair 
fight,  and  I'm  all  over  it." 

Jap  shook  his  hand  mechanically,  his  eyes  seeking 
the  window  from  which  Rosy  was  peering. 

"Tell  Bill  that  bygones  must  be  bygones,"  Jones  con 
tinued,  "for  we  want  to  get  the  two  papers  together 
on  the  main  issue.  The  old  man  will  come  in  on  the  sen- 
atorship  on  the  strength  of  his  race  for  governor.  And 
I  want  to  tell  you  a  secret  that  makes  me  very  happy 


202  JAP  HERRON 

— and  will  make  Bill  feel  different.  The  doctor  has 
just  told  me  that  these  queer  spells  and  moods  that 
Rosalie  has  been  having  lately  mean — Jap,  do  you 
understand?  I  will  be  a  father  before  summer!" 

Jap  wrung  Jones's  hand,  a  whirl  of  fancies  going 
through  his  head.  As  he  sought  for  suitable  words  of 
congratulation,  a  boy  ran  up. 

"I  been  chasin'  all  over  town  ahuntin'  for  you,  Mr. 
Herron,"  he  said  breathlessly.  "I  got  a  telegram  for 
you." 

Trembling  with  dread,  Jap  tore  it  open  and  read : 

"Come  home  at  once.  Your  sister  Agnesia  is 
here.  BILL." 


CHAPTER  XXII 

THE  streets  were  deserted  as  Jap  came  from  the  sta 
tion.  In  his  state  of  mind,  he  did  not  reflect  on  the  od 
dity  of  this  circumstance.  But  had  he  reflected,  the 
condition  of  traffic  congestion  at  *the  corner  near 
Blanke's  drug  store  and  the  further  congestion  in 
front  of  the  bank  would  have  enlightened  him.  All  the 
business  men  of  Bloomtown,  who  had  rushed  to  the  Her 
ald  office  with  important  advertisements  or  news  items, 
were  reluctantly  giving  place  to  those  who  had  discov 
ered  a  sudden  want  of  letter-heads. 

The  telegraph  office  at  Bloomtown  was  no  secret  re 
pository,  and  in  less  than  ten  minutes  after  Bill  had 
telegraphed  Jap  to  hurry  home  the  whole  street  knew 
that  the  beautiful  vision  that  arrived  on  the  5 :20  was 
Jap  Herron's  sister,  Agnesia.  And  forthwith  traffic 
filed  that  way. 

The  vision  arose  as  Jap  entered  the  front  door,  and 
waited  until  he  came  into  the  private  office.  It  was 
apparent  that  Bill  had  played  host,  to  the  limit  of  his 
meager  resources.  Agnesia's  hat  and  fur-trimmed 
coat  lay  on  the  table  of  exchanges. 

"Well,  Jappie,"  she  laughed  in  silvery  tones,  "how 
long  you  are !" 

203 


204  JAP  HERRON 

He  took  her  little  ringed  hands  in  his  and  looked  at 
her  silently.  Agnesia  was  the  beauty  of  the  family. 
Her  golden  curls  fluffed  bewitchingly  about  her  face 
and  her  wide  blue  eyes  smiled  affectionately. 

"You  are  grown,  too,  Aggie.  I  have  been  thinking 
of  you  as  a  very  little 

"Mercy !"  she  broke  in.  "Please,  Jappie,  don't  drag 
that  awful  name  to  light.  When  I  went  to  the  new 
home,  they  mercifully  killed  Agnesia.  I  have  been  Ma- 
belle  Hastings  so  long  that  I  had  almost  forgotten  Ag 
gie  Herron.  I  gave  that  hideous  name  to  your  friend," 
she  flung  a  gold-flashed  smile  at  Bill,  "because  you  had 
no  sister  Mabelle  in  the  old  days.  Our  folks  made  a 
bad  selection  of  names  for  their  progeny.  And  why 
Jasper?  Why  didn't  they  put  the  James  first?  It 
sounds  so  much  more  human." 

"Not  a  bit  of  it!"  declared  Bill.  "What  is  there 
about  James?  This  town  had  to  have  its  Jap  Herron. 
No  substitute  would  have  made  good." 

She  slipped  a  glance  through  her  long  lashes  at  Bill. 

"I  called  him  'Jappie,'  "  she  confided.  "I  was  a 
lisping  baby  and  couldn't  say  'Jasper.'  Dear  old 
Jappie,  how  he  slaved  for  me !  And  I  was  a  tyrant, 
demanding  service  every  minute  of  the  day." 

Jap's  face  clouded.  "Aggie  is  a  bigbug  now,"  came 
surging  into  his  memory,  as  a  wizened  face  obtruded 
itself  between  the  laughing  eyes  of  his  sister  and  his 


JAP  HERRON  205 

own.  The  girl  noted  the  swift  change.  She  took  his 
hand,  her  voice  quivering  with  appeal. 

"I  know  what  you  are  thinking  about,"  she  said. 
"But  I  could  not  help  it,  Jappie.  We  don't  have  to 
keep  up  the  pretense  before  Mr.  Bowers.  He  knows 
the  worst,  I  take  it.  Jappie,  you  may  not  remember, 
but  when  Mrs.  Hastings  adopted  me,  my  mother  had 
reported  that  she  would  either  turn  me  out  or  give  me 
to  the  county.  Afterward  my  foster-mother  took  me 
away  from  Happy  Hollow  when  she  saw  that  our 
mother  was  bringing  disgrace  on  all  of  us.  She  sacri 
ficed  her  home  and  moved  far  enough  away  so  that  no 
smirch  could  come  to  me.  You  don't  know,  brother, 
and  I  would  never  want  you  to  know  the  dreadful  things 
she  did.  I  had  not  heard  from  her  since  she  married 
that  drunken  brute,  until  she  came  to  the  house  one  hot 
day.  When  she  found  no  one  at  home,  she  laid  down 
on  the  porch  and  went  to  sleep,  drunk  and  unspeakably 
filthy.  She  was  there  when  we  returned  with  a  party 
of  friends.  Can  you  imagine  it,  Jappie?" 

Jap  nodded  his  head  slowly. 

"Mrs.  Hastings  had  her  taken  out  of  town,  and  told 
her  if  she  came  there  again  she  would  have  her  put  in 
an  asylum  for  drunkards.  After  that  she  threatened 
to  descend  upon  Fanny  Maud.  Fanny  could  not  af 
ford  to  have  her  career  spoiled.  Perhaps  we  were  cruel. 
I  read  the  scorching  letter  you  wrote  to  Fanny  after 
her — after  mother's  death.  But  Fanny  was  not  angry 


206  JAP  HERRON 

with  you,  and — and  she  was  willing  to  have  me  come 
to  you  now.  Next  spring  she  will  graduate  in  vocal 
music  from  the  highest  university  in  the  country,  and 
then  she  goes  to  Paris  to  study  under  the  artists  there. 
Jappie,  she  has  made  a  large  part  of  it,  herself,  teach 
ing  and  singing  in  the  church  choir,  and  studying 
whenever  she  had  enough  money  ahead.  At  last  Uncle 
Francis  died  and  left  her  a  snug  little  sum,  and  she  went 
to  New  York,  where  they  say  her  voice  is  a  wonder.  We 
should  be  proud  of  her.  She  wants  you  to  come  with  me 
in  June  to  hear  her  sing  when  she  graduates." 

Jap  stared  at  the  floor.  She  laid  her  hand  coaxingly 
on  his  shoulder. 

"Of  course  Jap  will  go !"  Bill's  brown  eyes  were  glow 
ing.  Jap  looked  across  at  him  in  astonishment  and 
wonder.  His  brain  reeled.  The  day  had  been  too  full. 

"And  you?"  the  girl  queried,  smiling  into  those  danc 
ing  brown  eyes. 

"We  can't  both  go  at  once,"  he  blurted.  "The  paper 
has  to  come  out  on  time." 

She  arose  and  wandered  through  the  rooms  that  oc 
cupied  the  lower  floor  of  the  building,  stepping  from  a 
hasty  and  uncomprehending  glance  at  the  press  room 
and  the  composing  room  to  dwell  with  critical  eye  on 
the  big,  bare  office. 

"You  need  a  little  fixing  up,"  she  commented.  "You 
should  have  a  nice  rug  and  shades,  and  a  roll-top  des,k 
and  swivel  chair." 


JAP  HERRON  207 

"So  we  should,"  lamented  Bill,  looking  around  with 
an  air  of  disapproval.  "But  not  having  anybody  to 
tell  us —  He  stopped  short,  embarrassed. 

"I  guess  that  I  will  have  to  keep  house  for  Jappie, 
and  boss  the  office  too.  That  is,  if  you  want  me,  Jap- 
pie,"  she  appealed.  "Mrs.  Hastings  died  last  March, 
and  I  have  been  with  Fanny  ever  since.  My  foster- 
mother  left  me  well  provided  for.  I  won't  be  a  burden, 
Jappie,"  she  cried.  "We  have  all  made  good.  We 
must  rejoice  together." 

Bill  was  half  way  across  the  office  in  his  excitement. 

"You  can  take  Flossy's  house,"  he  burst  out.  "It's 
ready  any  time,  because  Pap  had  it  completely  over- 
hauled  after  the  tenants  moved  out.  It's  the  only 

ready-furnished  house  in  Bloomtown  and "  His 

voice  lowered  and  there  was  a  note  of  wistfulness  in  it. 
"Jap,  Flossy  would  be  so  happy !" 

Jap  surveyed  his  erstwhile  desperate  friend  with  a 
gleam  of  merriment.  As  yet,  Bill  did  not  know  but 
that  his  sacrificing  partner  was  a  fugitive  from  the  law. 
He  had  not  even  remembered  to  ask  about  the  well-being 
of  Wilfred  Jones  and  his  wife. 

"Perhaps  Aggie — Mabelle,"  he  hastily  corrected,  "is 
just  joking.  She  would  hardly  like  to  bury  herself  in 
this  little  town  after  New  York.  There  would  be  so 
little  to  compensate." 

"Oh,  I  don't  fear  that  I  will  regret  New  York,"  said 
Mabelle,  letting  her  blue  eyes  dwell  on  Bill's  ingenuous 


208  JAP  HERRON 

countenance  for  a  throbbing  moment.  "Really,  Jappie, 
there's  nothing  to  regret." 

Bill's  heart  turned  over  twice.  His  face  was  ap 
pealing.  He  met  Jap's  dancing  eyes  defiantly. 

"Well,"  said  Jap,  "you  might  get  the  keys  and  show 
the  cottage  to  Ag — Mabelle,  and  see  how  much  enthu 
siasm  it  provokes.  Perhaps  it  would  make  a  better 
first  impression  by  electric  light.  Here,  put  an  extra 
bulb  in  your  pocket,  if  one  happens  to  be  missing,"  and 
he  drew  out  the  table  drawer,  where  many  things  lay 
hidden. 

Bill  was  helping  Mabelle  on  with  her  coat,  his  well- 
set  body  charged  with  electricity  that  was  strangely 
illuminating  to  Jap.  As  the  two  left  the  office,  a  few 
minutes  later,  a  teasing  voice  called  after  them: 

"Remember,  Bill,  that  you  took  on  a  pile  of  orders 
this  evening,  and  we  were  loaded  to  the  guards  with 
job  work  already." 


CHAPTER  XXIII 

JAP  looked  up  as  a  shadow  fell  across  the  door  of 
the  composing  room. 

"Well,"  he  queried  quizzically,  "what  about  it?" 

"Well,"  Bill  repeated,  drawing  the  girl  into  the 
room  after  him,  "Mabelle  thinks  that  the  cottage  needs 
a  bathroom  and  about  a  wagon  load  of  plumbing,  be 
sides  paint  and  paper.  Otherwise,  it's  all  right." 

Mabelle  slipped  past  him  and  approached  the  case. 
Standing  on  tiptoe  beside  the  high  stool,  she  laid  a 
hand  coaxingly  on  the  strong,  angular  shoulder. 

"Now,  Jappie,  boy,  iron  out  that  worry-frown.  I 
am  going  to  do  the  fixing  up  myself.  It  shan't  cost  you 
a  cent." 

"No!"  Jap  exploded. 

"Now,  dear  boy,  forget  your  pride.  I  have  lots  and 
lots  of  money,  and  this  is  to  be  my  home." 

"The  firm  is  not  insolvent,"  suggested  Bill. 

"It  isn't  a  matter  for  the  firm,"  Jap  said  gravely. 
"The  cottage  belongs  to  me,  and  we  can't  allow  our 
finances  to  get  mixed.  I'm  willing  to  have  you  put  in 
all  the  repairs  that  I  can  afford." 

His  mind  reverted  to  Flossy,  happy  and  clean  with 
out  a  bathroom. 

209 


210  JAP  HERRON 

"Let  me  take  a  mortgage  on  the  property  for  what 
ever  the  work  costs,"  Mabelle  pleaded,  her  lips  pucker 
ing  irresistibly. 

Jap  descended  from  the  stool  and  caught  her  in  his 
arms.  Somehow  she  had,  all  at  once,  become  his  baby 
sister  again.  The  episode  of  the  straw  stack  loomed 
before  him.  She  had  puckered  her  lips  just  like  that 
when  she  fled  to  him  for  protection.  With  little  co 
quettish  touches,  she  slipped  one  arm  around  his  neck, 
while  she  smoothed  his  red  locks  gently.  Bill,  looking 
on,  was  overcome  by  an  unaccountable  restlessness. 

"What  a  pity  Isabel  isn't  home !"  he  blurted.  And 
Bill  never  knew  why  he  had  recourse  to  Isabel  at  that 
moment.  The  observation  bore  the  desired  fruit.  Ma- 
belle  freed  herself  from  her  brother's  embrace,  with  the 
pained  exclamation: 

"Isabel  not  at  home!  Oh,  Jappie,  I  have  just  been 
waiting  for  you  to  tell  me  about  her.  Ever  since  we 
read  in  the  paper — and  the  one  little  reference  to  her 
in  your  letter  to  Fanny- 
She  stopped,  her  blue  eyes  filling  with  tears. 

"They  went  away  just  after  the  election  was  over," 
Bill  explained.  "Iz  wouldn't  leave  Jap  while  the  thing 
was  in  doubt,  not  even  for  her  mother." 

"I  don't  think  that's  quite  square,"  Jap  interposed. 
"Mrs.  Granger  didn't  want  to  go  at  all,  and  only  con 
sented  when  Dr.  Hall  told  her  how  ill  Isabel  was.  The 
rest  of  us  knew  that  Mrs.  Granger  couldn't  live  through 


JAP  HERRON  211 

another  winter  here;  but  he  had  to  make  Isabel's  poor 
health  the  pretext  when  he  sent  them  to  Florida  for 
the  cold  weather." 

"Is  she — is  she  seriously  sick?"  Mabelle  asked  tremu 
lously.  "The  mother,  I  mean." 

"It's  a  desperate  hope,  a  kind  of  last  resort,"  Bill 
vouchsafed.  "I  heard  Doc  Hall  talking  to  Tom  Gran 
ger  in  the  bank,  the  morning  before  they  left.  He  said 
ht  didn't  want  to  scare  him,  but  he  wanted  to  prepare 
him  for  the  worst,  I  thought." 

"I'm  sure  if  Isabel  were  at  home,  she'd  insist  on  your 
coming  right  to  her,"  Jap  said  slowly.  "Bill  and  I 
have  been  bunking  together  up  there,"  he  jerked  his 
thumb  in  the  direction  of  the  ceiling.  "We  have  a 
bedroom  and  a  little  combination  living-room,  dressing- 
room  and  library.  The  library's  Bill's  part.  We  take 
our  meals  at  the  hotel,  down  in  the  next  block.  The 
hotel  isn't  bad  for  a  town  of  this  size." 

"Oh,  I've  already  met  the  hotel,"  Mabelle  laughed. 
"Bill — Mr.  Bowers  took  me  there  to  dinner  this  eve 
ning  while  we  were  waiting  for  you  to  come  home." 

"Aw,  chuck  that  'Mr.  Bowers,'  "  Bill  interrupted. 
"I'm  plain  Bill  to  everybody  in  this  town,  and  I  guess 
Jap's  sister  can  call  me  that." 

"The  hotel,  as  I  was  saying,"  Jap  resumed,  "will 
have  to  take  care  of  you  for  the  present  till  you  can 
get  a  bathroom  attachment  for  the  cottage.  It'll  prob 
ably  be  lonely  for  you,  just  at  first." 


JAP  HERRON 

"I'll  see  to  it  that  Mabelle  meets  all  the  best  people  in 
town,"  Bill  offered. 

The  temporary  housing  problem  settled,  they  re 
turned  to  the  discussion  of  repairs  necessary  and  re 
pairs  superfluous.  After  two  hours  of  parley,  Jap 
consented  to  let  his  energetic  sister  work  her  will  on 
Flossy's  cottage.  It  was  after  midnight  when  the  girl 
had  been  established  in  her  room  at  the  hotel,  and  Jap 
and  Bill  tumbled  into  bed.  The  shank  of  that  night 
had  wrought  miracles  for  unsuspecting  Bloomtown. 
A  vision  of  blue  eyes,  red  lips  and  golden  tresses  kept 
floating  through  Bill's  dreams,  a  vision  that  bore  not 
the  least  resemblance  to  Rosy  Raymond.  Meanwhile 
Jap  stalked  through  one  dream  controversy  after  an 
other  with  plumbers,  painters  and  the  other  defilers  of 
Flossy's  home. 

By  noon  on  Monday  Mabelle  had  Bloomtown  by  the 
ears,  and  by  the  end  of  the  week  it  was  all  up  with  Bill. 
Jap  had  to  hire  a  boy  to  help  get  out  the  Herald.  It 
consumed  all  of  Bill's  time  threatening  and  cajoling 
merchants  into  the  prompt  delivery  of  supplies,  and 
seeing  to  it  that  the  workmen  were  on  the  job  when 
Mabelle  arrived  at  the  cottage  in  the  morning.  Bloom- 
town  carpenters,  paper  hangers  and  plumbers  usually 
took  their  own  sweet  time.  They  had  a  great  awaken 
ing  when  Mabelle  employed  them.  With  Bill  to  pour 
oil  on  the  troubled  waters,  strikes  were  narrowly 
averted. 


JAP  HERRON  213 

One  morning,  soon  after  the  radiant  one  arrived, 
Kelly  Jones  wandered  into  the  office,  where  a  lively 
dispute  with  the  boss  plumber  was  under  way.  In  ten 
minutes,  Kelly  had  fallen  a  victim  to  the  little  tyrant. 

"  'Tain't  no  use  talkin'  about  her  gittin'  along  with 
out  a  cellar,"  he  confided  to  Jap.  "I'll  dig  it  myself,  and 
that'll  save  all  this  row  about  how  the  pipes  is  got  to 
run.  I  ain't  got  nothin'  much  to  do,  now  the  corn's  all 
in.  And  it's  lucky  we  ain't  had  a  hard  freeze.  The 
ground's  fine  for  diggin',"  and  the  following  morning  he 
was  on  the  job. 

For  two  months  Bloomtown  was  demoralized.  A  cel 
lar  made  possible  a  furnace,  and  the  elimination  of 
stoves  called  for  a  fireplace  in  the  living-room,  a  fire 
place  framed  in  by  soft  blue  and  yellow  tiles.  One 
by  one  Mabelle  added  her  receipted  bills  to  the  packet 
of  documents  that  would  go  into  the  making  of  that 
mortgage  on  Jap's  property.  One  by  one  the  house 
wives  of  Bloomtown  demanded  of  their  paralyzed  hus 
bands  bathrooms,  cellars,  furnaces,  tiled  fireplaces. 

At  last  the  agony  was  over.  A  load  of  furniture 
had  arrived  from  the  city,  and  Bill,  as  usual,  left  his 
stickful  of  type  and  hastened  to  superintend  the  trans 
fer  of  it  from  the  freight  depot  to  the  cottage.  The 
evening  shadows  were  lengthening  in  the  office  when 
he  returned.  Jap  had  gone  up-stairs  to  get  out  a 
rush  order  on  the  job  press,  and  there  was  a  little  com 
motion  on  the  stairway  just  before  Bill  presented  him- 


214  JAP  HERRON 

self,  his  brown  eyes  full  of  trouble.  Jap  looked  at  him, 
and  his  heart  sank.  Had  it  come  to  this?  Mabelle,  in 
spite  of  her  scanty  years,  was  older  than  Bill.  She 
must  have  known.  The  whole  town  knew. 

"For  goodness'  sake,  Bill,  don't  pi  this  galley,"  he 
shouted,  bending  over  the  imposing  stone.  "Look  where 
you're  going.  I  wish  that  Mabelle  would  wake  to  the 
fact  that  you  have  a  half-hearted  interest  in  this  office. 
She  thinks  you  have  nothing  to  do  but  keep  tagging 
on  her  errands." 

The  office  cat  rubbed  her  sleek  side  against  Bill's  leg. 

"Get  out  and  let  me  alone!"  he  screamed,  jumping 
with  nervous  irritation. 

"Don't  do  that,  Bill,"  Jap  said  firmly.  "What's  the 
matter  with  you,  anyway?  You  are  as  pernickety  as  a 
setting  hen,  as  Kelly  said  yesterday.  When  even  Kelly 
begins  to  notice  your  aberrations  it's  time  for  you  to 
get  a  wake-up.  Are  you  sick?  Have  things  gone 
wrong?" 

Bill  walked  over  to  the  window  and  ran  his  thumb 
down  the  pane  of  glass  absently. 

"Jap,  have  you  that  mortgage  handy — all  that  busi 
ness  that  Mabelle  gave  you?" 

Jap  went  to  the  safe  and  took  out  the  packet  of 
papers. 

"Why?"  he  asked,  as  he  glanced  through  the  long 
list  of  items.  "Has  my  sister  thought  of  anything  else 


JAP  HERRON  215 

she  absolutely  needs?  In  another  week,  I'll  owe  her 
more  than  the  cottage  is  worth." 

Bill  took  the  documents  gingerly.  His  mobile  face 
flamed. 

"I — I — want  to  take  up  the  deeds,"  he  stammered. 

Jap  whirled  to  face  him. 

"You  see,"  stuttered  Bill,  "I — that  is,  we — Mabelle 
and  I,  we " 

Jap  sprang  forward,  lithe  as  a  panther,  and  caught 
Bill  by  the  arm.  Drawing  him  to  the  light,  he  looked 
full  in  the  embarrassed  face. 

"Where  is  she?"  he  shouted.  "Where  is  that  sister 
of  mine?  Where  is  she  hiding?" 

The  girl  came  from  the  dark  hall,  her  eyes  defiant, 
her  head  set  with  charming  insolence  on  one  side.  Jap 
struggled  with  his  self-possession  an  instant.  Then  a 
great,  gurgling  laugh  shook  his  shoulders  as  he  gath 
ered  the  pair  into  his  long  arms. 

"Golly  Haggins  !"  the  expletive  of  his  boyhood  leaped 
to  his  lips,  "I'm  glad  the  agony  is  over.  Now  perhaps 
we  will  be  able  to  get  the  Herald  to  our  subscribers 
on  time." 


CHAPTER  XXIV 

"TOM  GRANGER  got  a  telegram,"  announced  Bill, 
coming  into  the  office  one  morning  early  in  April.  "He 
wants  to  see  you  at  once,  Jap." 

Jap's  face  blanched.     He  looked  dumbly  at  Bill. 

"No,  it's  not  her,"  Bill  hastened  to  say.  "It's  her 
mother." 

Jap  stumbled  awkwardly  up  the  walk  to  the  Gran 
ger  home.  The  letters  from  Isabel  had  been  far  from 
reassuring,  and  only  the  previous  day  Dr.  Hall  had 
sounded  a  warning  that  the  care  of  the  invalid  was  too 
much  for  the  girl,  taxed  as  she  was  in  both  mind  and 
body.  Into  Jap's  consciousness  there  crept  the  thought 
that  she  had  never  fully  recovered  from  those  terrible 
weeks  when  she  hovered  over  him. 

Tom  Granger  met  him  at  the  door.  His  eyes  were 
red  with  weeping.  He  drew  Jap  into  the  parlor  and 
gave  him  two  telegrams. 

"This  came  at  midnight,"  he  said  brokenly.  Jap 
read: 

"Mother  sinking.     Come.     ISABEL." 

"And  this  just  arrived,"  Granger  choked,  as  the  fatal 
words  met  Jap's  eye: 

216 


JAP  HERRON  217 

"Mother  dying.     Come.     Bring  Jap.     ISABEL." 

"The  train  leaves  in  half  an  hour.  I  don't  have  to 
ask  you  anything,  my  boy." 

Jap  turned  and  hastened  away.  He  did  not  weaken 
Granger's  feeble  strength  with  words  of  sympathy. 

It  was  the  afternoon  of  the  second  day  when  the  two 
stood  with  Isabel  at  the  foot  of  the  bed.  Alice  Granger 
lifted  her  heavy  lids,  and  a  gleam  of  recognition  shone 
in  her  eyes.  Swiftly  those  two,  the  husband  and  the 
child,  drew  near,  eager  for  any  word  that  might  pass 
the  stiffening  lips.  Jap  stood  looking  sorrowfully  down, 
on  her  as  they  knelt  at  her  side. 

"Jap,"  she  whispered,  "you,  too,"  and  her  feeble 
fingers  drew  him. 

With  a  choked  sob  he  knelt  beside  Isabel.  The 
mother  fumbled  with  the  covers  until  her  hand,  icy 
cold,  touched  his.  Instantly  his  firm,  strong  hand 
closed  over  it.  She  smiled  and  murmured: 

"Tom.     Isabel." 

They  leaned  over  her  in  a  panic  of  fear. 

"Isabel's  hand,"  she  breathed,  and  placed  the  two 
hands  together.  "Tom,  there  is  time,"  she  whispered; 
"I  want —  She  sank  helpless. 

"I  know  what  you  would  say,"  cried  Granger,  the 
tears  streaming  down  his  face.  "You  want  him  to  be 
our  son  before — before  you  say  good-bye." 

A  flash  of  joy  illumined  her  thin  face.  She  sighed 
contentedly. 


818  JAP  HERRON 

A  minister  was  hastily  summoned,  and  a  half  hour 
later  Isabel  sobbed  her  grief  in  the  arms  of  her  husband, 
as  they  stood  awaiting  the  coming  of  the  Death  Angel. 

"It  made  such  a  difference  in  her  feeling  toward  you, 
your  illness  at  our  house,"  Tom  said,  looking  down 
upon  her  closed  eyes  and  fluttering  lips.  "She  never 
understood  you,  and  in  her  quiet  way  she  was  always 
reserving  judgment,  when  I  used  to  talk  so  much  about 
you.  A  mother  finds  it  hard  to  think  any  man  is  the 
right  one  for  her  only  child,  and  she  was  so  dependent 
on  Isabel.  She  hadn't  any  doubts,  after  she  saw  you 
in  that  dreadful  fever,  with  all  your  soul  laid  bare  to 
us.  She  knew  Isabel  would  be  safe,  and  after  that  she 
stopped  worrying." 

A  grim  hand  caught  at  Jap's  throat,  as  Tom  sank 
on  his  knees  and  buried  his  face  in  the  pillow  to  smother 
his  sobs.  Into  his  memory  there  came  the  words  of 
Flossy :  "When  your  mother  came,  there  was  a  reve 
lation.  I  don't  fear  for  your  future  now.  And  when  I 
knew  this,  Jap,  I  suddenly  felt  tired  and  old." 

Flossy  had  clung  to  life  until  he  had  found  the  woman 
who  could  take  her  place.  Then,  all  at  once,  she  let 
go.  And  now  Alice  Granger,  an  invalid  for  twenty- 
three  years,  had  relaxed  her  feeble  hold  on  life  when 
she  knew  that  her  child  was  in  safe  and  gentle  hands. 
Must  Death  forever  draw  its  grim  fingers  between  him 
and  his  happiness?  He  looked  at  his  bride,  fragile  as 
a  spring  flower,  and  a  great  fear  rushed  over  him. 


JAP  HERRON  219 

Dumb,  he  stood  there,  stroking  Isabel's  hair  with  fu 
tile  caresses. 

At  last  the  glazing  eyes  opened,  and  Alice  Granger 
said  faintly: 

"Tom,  not  alone." 

"Not  alone?"  he  cried  in  anguish.  "Always  alone 
without  you,  Alice." 

She  only  smiled — and  then  she  fell  asleep. 

It  was  a  strange  wedding  journey.  Between  the 
half-crazed  father  and  the  exhausted  wife,  Jap  was 
taxed  to  the  uttermost.  Isabel,  for  once  helpless,  lay 
white  and  silent  in  the  compartment,  too  weak  to  do 
more  than  cling  to  her  one  tower  of  strength,  while 
Tom  Granger  rent  Jap's  sympathetic  heart  with  his 
unreasoning  grief.  At  length  nature  demanded  her 
own ;  from  sheer  exhaustion  they  slept.  Jap  left  them 
alone  and  stood  out  on  the  platform  between  the 
coaches. 

"Is  my  life  always  to  hold  grief?"  he  queried  of  his 
soul.  A  throb  of  fear  tore  at  his  consciousness.  Isa 
bel's  death-white  face  arose  before  him. 

"No !"  he  cried  fiercely,  "there  is  a  God.  He  will 
not  take  all  from  me." 

He  went  back  into  the  car  and,  kneeling  beside  his 
sleeping  wife,  prayed  rnadly  to  his  God  for  mercy. 

The  grasses  were  green  along  the  tracks,  and  the 
blue  violets  lifted  their  rain-washed  faces  as  the  fa-> 


220  JAP  HERRON 

miliar  stations  loomed  in  sight  near  the  journey's  end. 
At  the  last  station  below  Bloomtown,  Bill  and  Dr.  Hall 
entered  the  sleeper. 

"We  have  everything  arranged,"  Dr.  Hall  said  to 
Jap,  while  Bill  fought  with  his  tears.  "Isabel  Gran 
ger  has  gone  through  too  much  to  stand  the  harrowing 
experience  of  a  funeral.  The  carriages  are  waiting,  and 
it  has  all  been  attended  to  at  the  cemetery.  We'll  just 
have  a  short  service  out  there,  and  I  want  you  to  keep 
her  in  the  carriage  with  you.  Bill  and  I  did  things  with 
a  high  hand,  but  it  had  to  be  so.  I  wouldn't  risk  hav 
ing  the  girl  look  into  her  mother's  grave.  She  couldn't 
stand  it." 

The  platform  was  crowded  with  friends,  and  Tom 
Granger  was  responding  to  sympathetic  greetings  with 
tears  he  did  not  try  to  hold.  Jap  half  carried  Isabel 
to  the  nearest  carriage,  and  Dr.  Hall  took  his  place 
with  them.  Bill  had  hurried  to  meet  Mabelle,  who  tact 
fully  drew  Tom  Granger  into  the  second  carriage,  in 
which  the  minister  sat  waiting.  In  a  dream  the  well 
known  landmarks  of  Bloomtown  passed  before  Jap's 
eyes.  There  was  the  quick  jolt  that  marked  the  cross 
ing  of  the  railroad  tracks,  and  then  the  cool  green  of 
the  cemetery  came  into  view. 

While  the  brief  service  was  read,  Jap  held  Isabel 
tight  to  his  aching  breast.  His  eyes  wandered  away 
beyond  the  yellow  mound  of  earth,  and  in  the  hazy  dis 
tance  he  saw  his  City  of  Hope.  The  young  grass  smiled 


JAP  HERRON  221 

above  the  mounds  that  held  the  empty  shells  of  those 
he  had  loved,  the  first  in  all  the  world  who  had  loved  him. 
On  Flossy's  straight  white  shaft  he  read  "I  Hope." 
That  was  all. 

After  the  slow  cortege  had  moved  its  way  back  to 
town,  Mabelle  left  the  carriage  and  approached  her 
brother.  Bill,  with  his  face  frankly  tear-stained,  was 
beside  her.  The  coachman  had  descended  from  his  box, 
and  was  opening  the  door. 

"Let  me  take  her — let  me  take  your  sweetheart  to 
our  cottage,"  she  pleaded.  Leaning  past  him,  she  took 
one  of  Isabel's  black-gloved  hands.  "Dear,  I  am  Jap- 
pie's  sister.  I  want  to  have  you  with  me  until  you 
are  better." 

Tom  Granger  sat  up  and  leaned  out  of  the  carriage, 
so  that  all  could  hear  him. 

"Jap  is  coming  home  with  us,"  he  said.  "He  is  my 
son.  He  was  married  to  Isabel  just  before  her  mother 
left  us." 

And  it  was  thus  that  after  well-nigh  three  years  of 
waiting  Bloomtown  celebrated  the  long-expected  hap 
piness  of  her  best  loved  son. 


CHAPTER  XXV 

ISABEL  had  a  long,  lingering  illness.  It  was  plainly 
impossible  for  Jap  and  Mabelle  to  go  to  New  York  to 
see  Fanny  Maud  make  her  debut.  Mabelle  had  been  a 
ministering  angel,  so  faithful  in  her  care  of  the  invalid 
that  an  unreasoning  jealousy  blotted  the  grin  of  con 
tentment  from  Bill's  face  as  he  uncomplainingly  took 
the  brunt  of  work  at  the  office.  Jap  was  too  abstracted 
to  notice  the  Associate  Editor's  woe.  One  day,  when 
rosy  June  was  just  bursting  its  buds,  he  glanced  hur 
riedly  through  the  columns  of  the  Herald,  still  damp 
from  the  press.  He  started,  and  looked  keenly  at  Bill. 
Second  column,  first  page,  under  a  double  head  that 
reduced  the  day's  political  sensation  to  minor  impor 
tance,  he  read: 

"OUR  NEIGHBOR  REJOICES;  TWINS  COME  TO  THE 
EDITOR  OF  THE  BARTON  STANDARD." 

"Whew !"  he  whistled.  Bill  looked  up.  The  red  flew 
to  his  cheeks. 

"Both  boys,"  he  commented,  folding  papers  rapidly. 
"Be  in  line  for  pages,  when  old  Brons  lands  in  the  Halls 
of  Justice." 

Jap  hurried  home  to  tell  the  news.  Isabel,  still  pale 

222 


JAP  HERRON  223 

and  weak,  was  lying  in  the  hammock  on  the  screened 
porch.  She  laughed,  her  old  merry  laugh,  when  Jap 
told  her  of  Rosy  Raymond's  achievement.  Mabelle 
tossed  her  yellow  curls. 

"Well,  I  don't  think  she  was  worrying  Bill,"  she 
snapped. 

"There  is  no  heavier  blow  to  romance  than  twins," 
Jap  said. 

"Maybe  she  will  call  them  Jap  and  Bill,"  crisped 
Mabelle,  and  stopped  short  when  her  brother  walked 
abruptly  to  the  other  end  of  the  porch. 

"I  hope  that  it  won't  fluster  you  to  know  that  Bill 
and  I  are  going  to  be  married  before  Fanny  Maud 
leaves  for  Europe,"  she  flung  at  him.  "I  want  that 
haughty  sister  of  mine  to  know  that  I  am  marrying  a 
real  man." 

Jap  came  swiftly  back. 

"Have  you  taken  Bill  into  your  confidence,  Sis?"  he 
asked,  patting  Isabel's  shoulder  gently,  as  he  smiled 
his  whimsical  smile  at  Mabelle. 

"You're  naughty  to  tease  her  so,"  his  wife  chided. 

"Bill  and  I  are  going  to  New  York  on  our  wedding 
trip,  just  as  soon  as  Isabel  can  spare  me.  I  want 

Fanny  Maud  to  see "  She  stopped,  then  took  the 

bit  in  her  teeth.  "Jappie,  you  never  knew  why  I  ran 
away  from  New  York  last  Thanksgiving.  Of  course  I 
told  Bill  all  about  it  long  ago.  Fanny  and  I  certainly 
don't  agree  when  it  comes  to  men.  I  can't  imagine  she 


224  JAP  HERRON 

will  approve  of  Bill,  after  the  one  she  picked  for  me." 

Further  confidence  was  cut  short  by  the  appearance 
of  Bill,  turning  the  corner.  She  arose  and  ran  to  meet 
him. 

"Poor  Bill,"  Jap  laughed,  as  the  two  came  arm  in 
arm  up  the  shady  lawn. 

Before  her  designs  upon  Bill  could  be  executed,  a 
strange  thing  happened.  Fanny  Maud  and  a  company 
of  musicians  made  a  summer  concert  tour.  It  was 
only  a  little  run  from  the  city,  and  such  an  aggregation 
of  artists  as  Bloomtown's  wildest  dreams  had  never 
visioned  descended  upon  the  town.  The  hotel  was  taxed 
to  its  uttermost  capacity,  with  six  song  birds,  an 
orchestra,  three  lap  dogs,  and  an  Impresario  whose 
manner  implied  that  he  had  designs  other  than  profes 
sional  on  the  leading  soprano.  Her  stay  was  short, 
and  left  an  impression  of  perfume,  fluffy  ruffles,  French 
and  haste.  Her  manager  consented  to  have  her  sing 
for  Jap  and  Isabel. 

Bloomtown  stood  out  in  the  road,  listening,  agape. 
Perhaps  Kelly  Jones  had  been  to  Barton  that  summer 
night,  for  he  declared  that  cats  were  climbing  out  of 
Tom  Granger's  chimneys,  screeching  for  help,  and  a 
man  kept  scaring  them  worse  by  howling  at  them. 
When  Fanny  Maud  reached  the  famous  high  note  she 
was  justly  proud  of,  Kelly  clapped  his  hands  to  his 
stomach  and  yelled  for  mercy. 

"That's  clawsick  music,"  abjured  Bill,  who  was  sit- 


JAP  HERRON  225 

ting  on  the  lawn  with  Mabelle.  Kelly  looked  at  them 
with  sorrow. 

"I  was  skeered  that  she  had  busted  her  throat,  and 
all  the  sound  was  comin'  out  to  onct,"  he  complained. 

The  last  night  of  the  brief  but  exciting  visit  Bill 
and  Mabelle  were  quietly  married.  Quietly — yes  and 
no.  Mike  Hawkins  rallied  the  band  and  all  the  tinware 
in  town  to  celebrate.  Mabelle  was  indignant  at  first, 
but  soon  began  to  enjoy  the  fun,  and  created  the  hap 
piest  impression  on  the  older  generation  of  Bloomtown 
by  insisting  on  marching  arm  in  arm  with  Kelly  Jones 
at  the  head  of  the  procession.  After  Bill  had  given  his 
solemn  oath  never  to  repeat  the  offense  the  "chivaree" 
broke  up,  with  wild  yells  of  congratulation. 

They  took  up  residence  in  Mabelle's  cottage.  By 
consensus  of  opinion  it  was  Mabelle's  cottage.  The 
town  in  fact  so  thoroughly  recognized  Mabelle,  in  the 
possessive  case,  that  Jap  cautioned  Bill  against  the 
contingency  of  being  referred  to  as  "Mabelle's  hus 
band."  Bill  was  proud  of  his  wife,  and  when  fortune 
brought  him  lucre,  from  the  long-forgotten  bit  of  Texas 
land  that  suddenly  showed  oil,  he  began  to  improve  the 
whole  street  by  putting  out  trees. 

As  Jap  feelingly  declared,  Mabelle  had  even  im 
proved  the  dirt  under  the  doorstep  of  the  cottage,  and 
Bill  was  fairly  pushed  out  on  the  street  for  improving 
to  do.  Under  her  fostering  care,  Bill  had  learned  to 
make  violent  demands  on  the  Town  Board.  And  they, 


226  JAP  HERRON 

the  aldermen  of  Bloomtown,  bent  on  pursuing  the  even 
tenor  of  their  way  at  any  hazard,  had  to  adjust  them 
selves  to  a  new  ebullition  from  Bill  every  Tuesday 
night.  But  Bill  and  Mabelle  were  not  doomed  to  see 
their  enthusiasm  go  up  in  vapor.  It  bore,  instead,  the 
most  substantial  fruit.  The  barren,  treeless  town  was 
beginning  to  grow  shade  for  the  aldermen  to  rest  under 
in  their  old  age. 

Kelly  Jones  said  that  if  Jap  had  brought  Mabelle 
with  him,  instead  of  waiting  fourteen  years  to  import 
her,  the  town  would  be  larger  than  St.  Louis.  As  it 
was,  Bloomtown  might  yet  run  that  city  a  swift  race. 
Mabelle  set  the  fashions ;  told  the  School  Board  how 
to  run  the  schools ;  the  preachers  how  to  make  their 
churches  popular ;  the  mothers  how  to  train  their  chil 
dren.  And  the  Town  Fathers  all  carried  their  hats 
in  their  hands  when  she  breezed  down  the  street.  Jap 
and  Isabel  watched  and  smiled,  serene  in  the  happiness 
that  was  theirs. 

"How  wonderful  it  is,  Jap,  dear,"  said  Isabel,  stand 
ing  in  the  sunset  glow,  on  that  Easter  Sunday,  after 
the  year  had  flown.  The  last  red  gleam  touched  the  tip 
of  the  monument  to  Ellis  Hinton,  that  had  been  erected 
by  Bloomtown  and  dedicated  that  morning.  Together 
they  had  gone  to  the  cemetery,  when  the  crowd  would 
not  be  there,  Isabel's  arms  full  of  garlands  for  the 
low  green  tents  of  their  loved  ones. 


JAP  HERRON  227 

"It  seemed  that  Flossy  must  be  smiling  at  you  as 
you  stood  there,  saying  the  marvelous  things  that  must 
have  come  to  you  direct  from  the  lips  of  your  spirit 
father.  Ellis  Hinton  spoke  through  you  when  you 
told  the  story  of  our  town." 

Jap  drew  her  tenderly  to  the  fostering  shadow  of  the 
monument  and  pressed  her  to  his  heart.  Her  face  was 
glorified  as  she  looked  up  into  his. 

"Oh,  Jap,  what  if  Ellis  had  never  lived!" 

Jap  drew  her  close.  Many  hours  had  he  wrought 
with  his  fear,  but  now  the  roses  had  come  again  to  her 
cheeks  and  the  light  to  her  eyes.  He  looked  over  the 
City  of  Peace,  and  his  own  eyes  were  full  with  joy. 

"But,  thank  God,  Ellis  did  live."  And  arm  in  arm 
they  walked  back  to  Ellis  Hinton's  real  town. 

As  they  crossed  the  railroad  tracks,  Kelly  Jones 
came  ambling  down  from  the  station,  where  a  large  con 
tingent  from  the  vicinity  of  the  steel  highway  between 
Barton  and  Bloomtown  waited  for  the  evening  "Accom 
modation." 

"Gimmeny !"  he  exclaimed,  clapping  Jap  on  the 
shoulder,  "I  sure  was  proud  of  Ellis's  boy  to-day. 
Ellis  says  to  me,  the  day  he  went  away,  says  he,  'Watch 
my  boy,  Kelly.  He  is  goin'  to  put  the  electricity  in 
Bloomtown's  backbone,'  and,  by  jolly,  you  done  it! 
I  reckon  you  felt  proud,"  he  went  on,  turning  to  Isabel, 
"when  Wat  Harlow  called  Jap  the  man  that  made 
Bloomtown  a  real  town,  and  the  crowd  yelled,  'Yes.' 


228  JAP  HERRON 

Well,  ma'am,  for  a  minute  I  shook  and  grunted.  And 
then  the  wife  said,  'Wait  a  bit,'  so  I  waited.  And  when 
Jap  got  up  and  told  the  folks  that,  not  Jap  Herron  but 
a  greater  man  than  he  ever  hoped  to  be,  had  cradled 
and  nussed  Bloomtown  and  learnt  her  to  walk,  I  might' 
nigh  split  my  guzzle  yellin'  for  joy.  Did  you  hear 
me  yellin',  'Hurrah  for  Ellis's  boy !'  And  did  you  hear 
the  crowd  say  it  after  me?" 

As  Isabel  took  his  hardened  hand  in  hers,  her  eyes 
overflowed. 

"Jap  is  Ellis,"  she  said  gently,  "to  you  and  to  his 
town.  I  know  it,  and  I  am 


CHAPTER  XXVI 

BILL  sat  doubled  over  the  case,  the  stick  held  list 
lessly  in  his  hand.  Nervously  he  fingered  the  copy,  not 
knowing  what  he  was  reading.  From  time  to  time  he 
slid  down  from  the  stool  and  lounged  across  the  big 
office  to  the  street  door.  Vacantly  he  returned  the 
greetings  of  his  townsmen,  as  he  gazed  past  them, 
across  the  corner  of  the  little  park  that  lay,  brown 
and  gold,  in  the  glory  of  Indian  Summer,  across  the 
intervening  street  where  Tom  Granger's  sedate  old 
house  looked  out  on  the  leaf-strewn  lawn.  He  could 
see  Tom  Granger,  pacing  up  and  down  the  walk.  He 
could  see  Jap,  sitting  under  the  great  elm,  his  face  hid 
den  in  his  hands. 

"Poor  old  Jap,"  Bill  muttered,  brushing  aside  a 
tear,  as  he  returned  once  more  to  his  case,  "life  has 
slammed  him  so  many  tough  licks  that  he  is  always 
cringing,  afraid  of  another  lick." 

The  morning  wore  on.  Bill  gave  up  the  effort  at 
type-setting  and  tried  to  apply  himself  to  the  ex 
changes,  so  that  he  could  the  better  watch  the  front 
of  that  house.  He  was  near  the  door,  trying  to  read, 
when,  all  at  once,  Tom  stopped  pacing.  Jap  sprang 

229 


230  JAP  HERRON 

up  and  bounded  across  the  lawn  and  into  the  front 
door.  A  white-capped  nurse  ran  through  the  wide  hall, 
and  in  a  little  while  Mabelle  put  her  head  out  of  an 
upper  window  and  peered  over  at  the  office.  Bill  pushed 
his  chair  back  and  tramped  heavily  to  the  pavement. 
Then  he  tramped  back  again. 

"Certainly  there  are  enough  of  them  to  let  somebody 
come  here  with  news,"  he  growled.  "They  don't  seem 
to  know  that  there  are  telephones — or  that  I  would 
care." 

Half  an  hour  dragged.  Then,  all  alone,  his  face  shin 
ing  with  holy  joy,  Jap  hurried  to  the  office.  For  a 
moment  neither  could  speak.  Hand  in  hand,  heart  beat 
ing  with  heart,  they  stood  looking  into  each  other's 
eyes.  Then  Jap  said  huskily: 

"Do  you  remember  what  Ellis  said,  that  day  when 
his  greatest  joy  came?" 

Bill  flung  his  arms  around  Jap  and  hugged  him 
lustily. 

"  'Get  out  all  the  roosters !'  "  he  cried,  tears  gushing 
from  his  brown  eyes. 

"And,"  said  Jap  slowly,  "Isabel  wants  to  call  him 
Jasper  William." 

THE    END 


University  of  California 

SOUTHERN  REGIONAL  LIBRARY  FACILITY 

Return  this  material  to  the  library 

from  which  it  was  borrowed. 


QL 


OUT  1  8 


1993 


V    <J  ?S\<T  r? 

A      V    /•.  (    r' }    x 
/    O  L>  -J  o 


A     000817340     3 


